The Isolation of a Lone Suffering
by TempeJill
Summary: A new foster care case has hit particularly close to home, and after the events of the season 4 finale, Brennan is running away from more than just one hidden memory from her past. Contains slight Season 5 spoilers/speculations. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm not even sure why I started writing this one... it sorta just came to me. Anyways, just a quick explanation before you read: This is based in the very early stages of Season 5, so Bones and Booth are not together and she has distanced herself from him after how close they got at the end of Season 4, which is something he doesn't understand and hasn't really had time to. **

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"What's up, Ange?" Booth asked, walking into her office with a frown. He cast a concerned glance back over his shoulder at where his partner had her back to him up on the lab platform. This didn't go unnoticed by Angela, who had her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised when he turned back to her.

"You know what's up," she stated calmly.

He groaned internally. This was not a conversation he wanted to have right now. Didn't he have enough problems trying to sort through this mess with Bones, without having the artist throwing in her opinions and her side of things as well? He could barely cope with one issue, and his sleep was certainly suffering for it.

"Ange, she won't talk to me; I don't know how to get through to her."

The woman sighed, and motioned for him to take a seat while she leaned against the Angelator to address him. He felt uncomfortable, like he was in the principal's office after causing some sort of disaster in the hallway. But her gaze was pitying now, rather than confrontational.

"You need to explain some things to her, Booth, and I mean actually _explain_. Don't just use that 'I care because I'm your partner' crap. And the best friend gig ain't gunna fly this time either."

He stared at her in shock. "What?"

"Booth, we both know this case hit her hard."

No kidding, he thought irritably. Foster care cases were bad enough without throwing in that the victim had been fifteen and according to the files they had she'd been sexually abused. Bones' reaction to all of it had been unpleasant, not that he'd expected better. But still, he hadn't been thinking that she'd shut _him_ out along with everyone else. She seemed to be pretending the world didn't exist outside of this lab, and the way she icily dismissed any attempts at concern for her well-being was only confirming the sick feeling in his gut that she felt a connection to this victim that he would certainly prefer she didn't.

"I just wish she'd _talk_ to me."

"Then make her," she answered firmly, "Don't you dare let her keep this up, or I _will_ blame you. You know you're the only one who can through to her when she's like this, and I'd really like to see a bit more effort."

He felt his fists clench, and he gritted his teeth. "You don't think I'm trying? Every single time I try to get her on her own... help her out... offer to take her to get something to eat... she acts like we don't even know each other! Do you have any _idea_ how much that hurts?"

"Yeah, I do," she said calmly. He felt the anger drain out of him and sighed, burying his head in his hands. Lately he was just unable to do anything right, it seemed, and yelling at other squints to take out his frustration towards his inability to help his partner was not going to help things one bit.

"Sorry, Ange," he said, glancing up at her. She just nodded at him sadly.

"She's my best friend, Booth, and I don't want to lose her any more than you do. She's doing the same thing to all of us... you aren't totally alone. But if you'd just let her know _how _much you want to help her, maybe she'd finally see it."

"What do you want me to say, exactly?" he asked, tensing as he waited for the answer he knew would be coming.

"Tell her you love her, Booth. Just... do it, okay? Stop being so afraid; she needs you."

Somehow, the usual frustration at Angela's attempt to get them together didn't come. It was probably because of the look in her dark eyes, he thought, and the way they seemed to shimmer like she was holding back tears. She wasn't just teasing or trying to play matchmaker, not today. This time she was trying to help the both of them, and he couldn't deny that her sincerity hit him rather painfully. How was he supposed to do this? Yes, he wanted to hold her and stroke her hair and rock her in his arms like someone would do for the woman they loved, but she wasn't exactly going to comply to any of his wishes. Not Bones.

"You really think that telling her that is going to help?" he asked resignedly.

Angela's lack of excitement at his basic admittance to the fact he loved Bones added to the dark cloud that hung over the entire Jeffersonian. There was a brief spark in her eyes that told him she was glad of the fact, but besides that... nothing except for the advice she went ahead to provide.

"Yeah, Booth, I do. I think Brennan... well I think she's just as upset by her past as she is by how we all react to it. I mean, we've always known she's terrified of being abandoned, so if you treat her like you care she thinks that it can't really mean anything. Especially with what she must be reliving..."

He winced at that last statement. "Yeah," he muttered. "I tried telling her I cared about her and it was almost like that made it worse. She shut her apartment door in my face."

Angela cast him a sympathetic look before she continued, "She can't believe it," she explained, "And she's afraid that if it's true then it won't last or something like that."

He looked at her in slight admiration for a long moment. "How do you know that?"

"I've known Bren for a long time, Booth, I've gotten pretty good at reading her. You have too, of course, but I knew her when she was younger... and she wasn't as compartmentalized as when you got here. She told me a lot of things before she hardened up and pretended her past didn't happen." He nodded, and so she went on with what she'd been saying before. "If you prove to her that you care _because_ of something, then she might understand better. Tell her..." she shook her head suddenly, "Tell her what you feel is right. I know you can do it, Booth."

"And what if telling her I love her scares her more than everything else so far has?"

"Then we don't give up," Ange said, crossing her arms. "We will never give up on Brennan, not as long as I'm here. Or you are," she amended, seeing the look on his face.

"When am I going to do that, exactly?" he added as an afterthought, only making it halfway towards the door before he was unable to finish the journey out to his partner. "I can't really just go up and start talking to her while she works up there..."

"It's late," Ange said with conviction, "She's gotta go to her office at some point. Follow her, okay, Booth? Don't let her walk out of here without making her understand that she doesn't have to hide herself from us, from you."

He nodded and headed once more for the door, pausing with his fingers around the handle. "Thanks, Ange," he said, attempting to offer her a smile that he knew came out more like a grimace.

But she shook her head at him, "Thank you," she turned his words back on him. "Make her happy, Booth. Make her safe."

"I will." He finally exited the room and found himself underneath the brilliant lights of the lab. Bracing himself, he made his way to her, and then stood off to the side and watched in silence, every move that she made hurting him. She worked methodically, but it wasn't her usual manner of thoroughness. It had a more cold aspect to it, and everything she said or did was clinical and without the slightest trace of emotion. Her eyes were a paler blue than he'd ever seen them, and her skin was pale. Shadows under her eyes showed that she hadn't been sleeping properly either, and her hair was pulled into a neat ponytail, showing him that she'd taken the time to flatten every strand perfectly before going to work. She'd probably stood in front of the bathroom mirror like a robot. It hurt him more than he could say to picture that.

More than anything in the world, he wanted her back. The Bones that he'd had before, with her adorable cluelessness and their friendly banter. The way her eyes shone with excitement when she figured something out, or how they flared up as though someone had lit a fire behind them when she was defending a theory to him. He missed that, her passion. It seemed to have vanished along with every trace of who she had been to him over the past four years.

If someone asked him who she was, he would not have answered the automatic 'Bones' that was engrained in his mind. He would have stared at her for a long moment, for the first time having to consider. She was not Brennan or Bren, because the friend Ange had found in her was just as gone as the one that Booth had known. And Dr. Brennan, as a formal title, would have fit, but it wouldn't have at the same time.

He would have had to answer something that made his throat tighten and his heart clench at the thought.

He would have said, "I don't know," because she wasn't who he knew, or who anyone knew, and the person in front of him was a dark shadow of the woman he'd grown to trust and care about more than anything in the world.

The urge to grab her and wrap her safely in his arms, beg her to just be herself again, was almost impossible to fight off. He needed her back with the same intensity as a man who'd gone without food for days craved a good meal. He needed her back in his life, or he was pretty sure he was going to go crazy.

Finally Cam came out of her office and in a firm voice that didn't match the expression in her eyes or on her face, told both of them that they needed to wrap it up and go home, or she'd have security force them out the doors.

Angela passed by, attempted to catch Bones' eye and failed, and then gave Booth a piercing but urging look before she vanished out the doors. Cam shut the lights off in her own office, called out one more warning, and then followed her.

Booth wished he could be like her, and just command Bones to do something. Instead, every fiber of his being was telling him to comfort her. No matter how much good it would do her, he could not seize her and forcibly drag her to the diner so that she would have a meal for the first time in two days. He just couldn't do that to her.

Without looking at him, she set down the piece of skull she'd been holding and whisked past and down the steps. He followed at a slower pace, and paused outside her office door. He could see her inside, putting her things neatly in her bag and hanging her lab coat with precision on its hook. She pulled on her own jacket with the same silent and stony manner.

Just as she was pulling her bag over her shoulder he pushed the door open and knocked softly on the wood, peering his head around it. She didn't look up, and pretended as though she hadn't even heard him. His heart was thudding in his chest with the anxiety of the situation, but he took the step and moved his entire body inside, shutting the door and standing in front of it so she could not leave without at least speaking to him.

She went around behind her desk and shut her computer down, straightening papers and sliding some into a file which she stored carefully in a drawer. Never once did she make eye contact with him, and her body language didn't even suggest that she knew he was there. If he hadn't known better, he might have thought he'd somehow become invisible to the rest of the world.

"Bones," he said calmly. Nothing. She came around her desk, put a book back in its place on the shelf, and then made her way towards him.

He didn't move.

She stopped directly in front of him, staring straight through him as though she could see the door handle that she needed to reach on the other side of him. The illusion of being invisible was increasing, but he didn't give in.

"Bones," he said more firmly.

Then, at long last, she made eye contact with him for the first time in two days.

The glare she sent him almost threw him off his feet. Her eyes seemed to go on forever, and he stared into their depths as though he could not look away, which in fact it seemed he couldn't. A storm was roiling there, and he could practically see lightning flash as she stepped towards him menacingly. She didn't speak, but the look was enough to convey every message she could possibly need to send.

With great effort, he remained standing where he was.

He saw her jaw clench out of the corner of his eye, since he could not break the contact between their stares, and for a moment he feared she might actually attack him and forcibly remove him from her path.

Then she did something he didn't expect. With the single word that escaped her lips, the look in her eyes transformed, although it was for a split second.

"Move," she hissed. The storm seemed to intensify so that he could suddenly feel every ounce of pain that was swirling through her mind. The word seemed to reverberate through the recesses of his brain, echoing continuously in a chant of suffering and fury. More so than the anger behind it, though, it revealed the torture she was suffering on the inside.

In seconds her eyes were back to the stony ice-gray they had been, and they flashed dangerously with another spark of that lightning.

When he still remained where he was he saw her falter slightly, saw her hesitate. He could have sworn he saw the faintest bit of moisture glaze over her look, but it vanished in a flash. Then he was assaulted by an array of emotion, from pleading to desperation to another bout of pure anger. How was that even possible from just a look in her eyes?

But it seemed to be radiating off of her entire being, from the way she held herself and the way she tensed slightly or leaned forward or bent her head. Each reaction lasted no longer than a second, and she seemed to be at a loss for a proper way to confront the situation. She obviously didn't know what to do or how to remove someone who was not intimidated by her fury alone.

He wanted to move, he realized suddenly, feeling an ache in his legs. He wanted more than anything to stand aside, to let that relief shoot through her so she could escape, so she could be free. But Ange's words cut to the core of him once again... and he knew that he couldn't just let her walk out of here. He couldn't do what would save them both the emotional toll if it meant losing the long-term effects. He would have to fight this battle, and it would help him win the war. He couldn't give up one, or it would destroy the other.

If he backed down here... would he ever find the courage to stand up to her and tell her the truth? This was going to hurt, yes, and it was going to take a lot out of both of them. But he didn't have much of a choice if he didn't want to lose her... and losing her was not an option if he wished to continue living.

"Bones," he said again, and he saw a flash in her eyes once more, not anger, but rather fear. It would have worked, too, but his resolve had strengthened. He didn't have another option. He cared about her too much. "Bones, we have to talk, okay?"

He held his breath as she stared back at him, her fists clenched at her sides. She didn't appear to be breathing at all, nor had she been that entire time, he thought. He felt like he was going to explode if this went on much longer. It was like he'd been running a marathon and he'd only just begun, knowing how much further there was to go...

Finally she shook her head fractionally side to side, the movement stiff.

"No, Bones, we _have_ to," he repeated, "I need to talk to you. Please."

Another long pause. Torture.

A stiff nod, and then she spun on her heel and stalked back behind her desk, sitting down and staring at him as though daring him to protest to the seating arrangements.

He simply bowed his head, grabbed a chair from against the wall, and pulled it around so that he sat next to her rather than across. She tensed at that, but didn't get up and run, which he took to be a good sign.

"Please talk to me," he whispered, knowing that he sounded desperate and not really caring. He'd only heard her voice a few times over the past few days, and all of those had been when she was speaking with someone else... all of it pertaining to detailed and concise facts which he understood none of.

"What do you want?" was her way of complying. The harshness and the disassociation he heard there made him wince, and he gritted his teeth, feeling like he'd been slapped rather than just spoken to.

"I want you to stop shutting me out," he finally answered. "I want you to let me help you, rather than pretending I don't exist."

"I'm not pretending you don't exist," she answered, her voice betraying not a single trace of emotion. It was like she was reading out of a book rather than having a conversation. "I'm just choosing to be professional and actually do work. Maybe you should go back to the FBI building and do your own job rather than observing us do ours."

He hadn't really thought words could hurt more than physical pain, but those sent shockwaves through his system, like an electrocution. He breathed out a heavy sigh, his muscles tense from clenching his fists for so long. He stretched his fingers, staring down for a long moment before he finally raised his eyes to her. She was staring at him, which was still a shock given her ability to ignore him for so long. He couldn't get used to being paid attention to again, at least not in this way where he was more of an insignificant bug under a microscope instead of her friend.

"I'm not going anywhere, Bones," he managed to get the words out, with a bit of difficulty.

The way she regarded him next, and the words she spoke, brought back memories from a long time ago, from a part of their relationship he thought he'd never see again. It was something they'd both agreed unspokenly about, something that had been the tying line behind the relationship he so cherished.

"Don't call me Bones," she said.

And then she stood and she stepped around her desk, vanishing out the door of the office before he could even say another word to her, or attempt to stop her. She was gone, and he buried his head in his hands. He was broken, unable to move from the seat as he stared emptily at where she'd been just moments before. It was only several minutes later that he realized the coldness spreading through his face was not the blood draining from it out of shock... but rather tears, slowly making their way down his skin. He didn't bother to try to stop them.

Instead, he stood up and went to the door, staring into the deserted lab and shutting her office door behind him, not knowing if this place would ever be the same for him again... or if he'd ever even come back to it.

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**Well, what did you think? I wasn't sure how OOC Brennan was, but I was trying to put in a real strain on their relationship, and I could see her doing this with the combination of factors from the last season's ending and this case that I've given them... but I'm not in a position to say. You are :)**

**I'm going to continue this; there will be more up sometime soon. It won't be an incredibly long story like my other one, but I'm pretty sure it'll be a few chapters. We'll have to see. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, here's chapter two! Thanks so much for all the reviews, everyone, I really appreciate all of your comments!! **

**PS- Guess what? Yup, you're right! I don't own Bones! Sad, huh? :(**

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He wasn't really sure of where he was going, or what he intended to do tomorrow, all that he was aware of was the intense need to get away, and the other need to get back. They clashed, and the urge to chase her down and finish what he'd started, hold her and rock her in his strong arms, make her forget all the pain in the world, was incredibly compelling. But the compulsion to run, and escape from all these fears and desperations he'd been faced with over these past few days... and the wish that he wouldn't have to cause her any more pain with his attempts to get her to open up to him... it won out over the other.

So here he was, on the road somewhere in Maryland, no destination ahead of him and only insecurities behind. He was going to have to go back eventually, yes, but for now he was content to let the road roll away his fears and allow the spinning of the wheels to pull his anxiety out of him so he could just be peacefully free of concerns for even a short while.

_"Don't call me Bones,"_ she'd told him. The words rang through his mind like the reverberations of a bell that had tolled long ago but that he couldn't get out of his mind. He was reminded humorlessly of the ending of Spider-Man 3... with the clanging sound being the torture and the destruction of Venom. Well that was certainly how he felt right now. Trapped, caged in by words alone... simple sounds, simple noise that held more pain, that hit him with more force than any injury ever could.

Four years... for four long years he had wanted nothing more than to be by her side, first to solve crimes with someone clearly skilled in her field, then because he enjoyed her company, eventually because he simply couldn't imagine life without her... and finally because he regarded her as not only his best friend but as the one person he'd truly let himself fall for without even trying. He loved her, and he couldn't deny it. The fact seemed to mock him now... the words, so firm and cold, telling him not to call her the only name he could describe her with... were like a firm denial. Like she knew how he felt, and she was telling him in no uncertain terms that she felt no connection whatsoever. Like he meant nothing to her, and she didn't want to see him again.

He knew he wasn't being entirely realistic... after all, Bones- the thought stopped short painfully, but he shook his head, clenching his teeth together, and went onwards. He wasn't going to stop calling her that, to himself, to others, to her even, no matter what she had to say about it. She was blocking him out not because she was rejecting him, but because she didn't think he should care, as Ange had put it. She was keeping everyone at a distance... keeping everything professional. He despised it with a fervor.

Sure, after what had happened so recently... she'd been keeping a bit of a distance... but that hadn't changed the way they worked together, not much at least. They'd still debated over cases, she'd still talked with him like a friend, even if her words were guarded and cautious. This... well what they were going through right now, was a totally different scenario. The first one probably had had some influence on it, he had to admit, though. He sighed heavily, recalling how poorly things had gone, how their relationship had abruptly gone from very close to suddenly very... tense.

Her asking to use his sperm to have a baby was a large portion of the awkwardness, he knew. Just from the way she acted, the way she avoided the subject, refused to discuss children or babies, he could tell that she was incredibly upset by how she'd let her emotions take over with that request.

And of course that dream he'd had... and the totally unexplained reaction they'd both had, which neither of them had really gotten a chance to address. Nor had they truly attempted to do so, although Sweets had been fascinated, to say the least.

His coma... yes, that had been an inducer in the situation as well. He'd been out of it for four days, after all, and he knew she'd been terrified, or at least he gathered that from what the squints had quietly informed him out of her ear shot, of losing him. And when he'd woken up, confused and disoriented, saying the first thing that came to mind while he was in a bleary stupor, "Who are you?" he'd given her a real shock. That dream hadn't exactly faded from his mind, either; it still tormented him regularly, occasionally bits of it coming back or more of it adding on. The two of them... married... expecting a child... it was all wishful thinking, and given the current circumstances... it was _very_ wishful. It was never going to happen, he thought with another heaving sigh.

Heck, he wasn't even sure if he was ever going to get her to let him into her life again, so being tortured by visions of the two of them happier than they'd ever been was getting more and more unpleasant, and made reality even more insufferable. He'd had a harder and harder time getting to sleep with all the stress he'd been suffering under, too, and he had to say that it was probably also because he didn't want to deal with more of what he couldn't have on top of it all. So he just dealt with being tired and not really feeling like himself. Not that he didn't already not feel like himself, with the loss of all his humor and excitement for a day at work alongside his beautiful partner.

But this case... he hated it. He wished with all his heart that it could have been an easy ID from a wallet or something, with a completely obvious cause of death, just so a different agent could have handled it. The look on her face as she read through the file after Ange's sketch had gotten a match... it had torn his heart. And then when he'd gently asked her if she was okay, feeling more and more concerned with how pale and distant she looked... she'd suddenly stared straight through him, then said in that detached way he was now painfully used to, "I'm perfectly fine, but that doesn't pertain to this case. Excuse me, I need to get to work on the remains." She'd brushed past him and up to the platform, leaving him stunned and numb in her wake.

He shook himself away from the memories, feeling their throbbing ache cut into him as though they were all new wounds on top of the ones from their latest conversation. His heart rate was slower now, though, so that was a positive at least. He could recall it pounding desperately as he tried to speak with her before she'd vanished on him again, and the way it hadn't ceased its frantic thrumming long after she was gone while he struggled to figure out exactly what he should do.

Which had led him to where he was now. He glared at the road ahead, and audience of stars from overhead winking down at him and offering no guidance. He should probably turn around, he realized as he glanced for the first time towards the dull green-lit numbers that displayed the time on his dashboard. Ten fifty-two.

His attention finally on something other than just turning the wheel occasionally to follow the winding road or on his brooding thoughts, he searched along the roadside for a good place to turn around.

A metallic buzzing sound reached his ears and he fumbled for his cell phone as he pulled into a nearly empty parking lot in front of a dark convenience store and a run-down gas station. Both looked like they hadn't seen a customer or even a living human in years. He turned the car around and stopped it facing towards the road as he flipped the phone open and pressed it to his ear, not even looking to see who it was, unable to let himself ruin the possibility by seeing any other name but hers.

"Booth," he said, hating the desperate hope he heard in his own tone when he'd tried to keep his voice calm and level.

"Booth, it's Ange," the woman's voice said, a slightly frantic note to it. "I waited outside the lab, to see how it went... and Brennan ran past me. I followed her, but she took off without a word, and I tried to follow her, but lost her, and then I went back and you were already gone... what happened?" she practically babbled.

He groaned, not wanting to discuss his failure. "It didn't go well, Ange," he sighed.

"Oh, god," she whispered, "Did you... tell her?"

"No," he said quickly, wanting to dispel any fears she had about how that would be her fault if things had gotten worse from a suggestion she'd pretty much forced upon him. "I didn't get a chance, Ange. I... I tried to talk to her, but she... oh God it was bad. She... Ange, she told me that I wasn't doing my job and I should go back to the FBI building rather than spending time at the lab, and then... she told me not to call her Bones," he practically choked out the last part, knowing Angela would fully understand just what that meant to him.

There was a strained silence, and then, "Booth, I'm so sorry. Where... where are you?"

"I went for a drive to clear my head," he muttered. "I'm on my way back to DC now."

"Booth?"

"Yeah, Ange?"

"You... you aren't giving up on her, are you?"

"Not a chance," he reassured her. "She's still Bones, whether or not she shows it. We're going to get her back, I promise."

"Thank you," she said, her voice small and tired. He felt his whole body sag into the seat, her pain adding to his. This was hurting her almost as much as it was him... maybe even as much as, but he didn't know. He'd been pretty sure he cared about Bones more than anyone else ever had, but he knew that Angela loved her very much. In this case, though, it didn't really matter, did it? When did it ever, when it came to her well-being? They both wanted the same thing for the person they cared about more than themselves.

"I gotta go, Ange. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah... bye, Booth."

"Bye," he responded softly, and he kept the phone pressed to his ear still for a while before he lowered it and let it snap shut. Then he stared at it, sighing heavily as he stared up at the roof of his SUV, searching for answers and finding none. For now, he was just going to have to let things happen as they did... and hope that he'd have more luck tomorrow.

If she came to work, that was.

And if she didn't... well then he'd have to find her, now wouldn't he?

* * *

A loud banging sound filled the air as he slammed his fist repeatedly against her door. "Come on, I know you're home. Please open up?" It took all of his strength not to add a 'Bones' in there anywhere.

She hadn't come to the lab, which had naturally panicked an already concerned Angela, and had clearly given means to worry for Cam and Hodgins and even the interns, who had lately been hiding in limbo so as to avoid her while this case was going on. Now he was at her apartment, and he wasn't leaving until he at least got a response. He intended to get more than that, though.

Finally he just gave in and shouted out, "Bones! Come _on_, let me in!" There was silence, and he banged his head against her wall and breathed in heavily. It was very tempting to just break down her door, but he had a feeling that would end very poorly, and most likely with him being beat up and dumped back out in the hall. "Bones..." he groaned, slamming his fist into the wood once more and leaving it there.

Then, finally, he heard footsteps, and he stood back nervously as he heard the deadbolt pulled back and the clinking of the chain. Then at last came the clicking of the lock and the turning of the doorknob... and then the door pulled open with one quick jerk and she stood there, eyes blazing.

"What do you want?" she hissed, her tone a deathly whisper that made him wince.

"You didn't come to work today," he said nervously.

"So you felt the need to stalk me? Did you ever consider that maybe I chose to stay home because I didn't want to be around you?"

He cringed, but spoke up quickly anyways, "Bones, you can try that all you like, but I'm not going anywhere, no matter how hard you work at it or what you say to me. I'm going to stick around however long it takes, whether you like it or not."

She let out a gasp through her teeth, but her eyes stayed hard and mostly unreadable. He could see anger in them, yes, but all other emotions were masked carefully by it.

"I don't want you to. If you actually do care then you'll leave me alone. And I told you, stop calling me that."

"I'm not doing that, either. You're Bones, and there's nothing you can do to alter that. Please, just... listen to me, okay? You are a very strong person, you know it and I know it," he said, and he saw her bite her lip and look away. "I respect that, Bones, you know I do. I always have. But sometimes you have to accept what people have to give to you. You don't have to go through this alone, not when we all want to be there by your side and help you. Despite what you may believe, we all care about you very much, especially Ange. She's worried out of her mind about you. I am too."

There was silence, and he was relieved that she didn't immediately slam the door in his face or begin arguing against everything he'd said. He took it as a good sign and went on, praying that this was going to work.

"I know you don't like talking about your past, Bones," he said gently. Her eyes flew to his in alarm, but he went onwards anyways, feeling the immense relief that her eyes were not filled with hate or anger for once. "By never asking about it, I let you do that. I didn't want to hear it either; I wanted to pretend that you never went through anything. I know you did, Bones. I hate it, of course, but I know it's true. And the way you reacted to this case... I'm really sorry." He said it sincerely, and he gauged her reaction, wishing more than anything that he could just reach out and touch her, offer her reassurance and comfort with a hand on her shoulder, arms around her... whatever it took. But he couldn't, no matter how much he wanted to. She was looking away again, hiding her eyes.

"Can I come in?" he asked cautiously, the fear of having the door shut on him still very present. The need to sit down by her side was pretty strong as well.

She let her eyes flicker to his for a brief moment, then she stepped aside, not meeting his gaze again. He walked in past her and she shut the door softly behind her. Her anger had vanished completely, leaving this fearful and dejected looking Bones in its wake, and he had a feeling that all that rage had just drained out of her. She looked tired. Just plain tired.

He watched as she sat down on the couch, all traces of her robotic demeanor washed away as she simply dropped into the cushion, eyes staring at a side wall and teeth still biting into her lower lip.

"Bones?" he said, sitting down next to her but keeping a careful distance between them. She turned towards him, her face blank. She didn't demand he stop calling her that, for which he was grateful.

He quickly began talking again, desperate for her to understand now that he'd come this far. "I care about you. I really do. And... Bones, I know you're upset now, and that you don't want anyone to try to reach out to you, but I can't not try to help. It... it hurts to see you like this."

Her head turned away, and he knew that she was trying to hide the emotion that had begun to form in her eyes. He plowed onwards.

"You are so brave," he whispered. "But you don't have to isolate yourself. You don't have to suffer alone. Let me in. Please, Bones, I'm begging you. I don't want to lose you. I can't lose you."

The shock was evident on her face, as she snapped her head around to stare at him with her mouth slightly open.

"Why?" she whispered, blinking her eyes. He could see they were starting to fill with moisture, and he politely looked away from them and down at his own hands. "Why do you care, Booth? Why can't you just... let things be the way they are? Why do you have to... want to make things better all the time? Some things..." she took a deep breath. "Some things you can't fix." He looked back up at her, saw the pain swimming in the blue of her gaze. "I'm damaged goods," she murmured. "Just leave me be."

His hand reached out without any bidding from him, and rested on top of hers. She pulled back immediately, as though she'd been burned, and he just nodded slightly, understanding that he shouldn't have done it. But he had to try to comfort her, if not with touch than with words. And he had to make her understand just how wrong she was.

"Don't you dare say that," he said, keeping his voice firm. She looked at him in sudden surprise at the anger that was evident there. "Don't you dare think that you're anything like that, Bones. You are _not_ 'damaged goods.' _Never._" She opened her mouth, probably to argue, but he cut her off and went on, finding that he was unable to stop once he got started. "You've been through so much, and you've seen and suffered through so many things that I probably can't imagine. But that does _not _mean you aren't an incredible person, and that you aren't perfect the way you are. You are perfect," he hissed, "You are such a beautiful person, you need to know that. And why do I care? How could I not care about you, Bones?

"We've been through so much; we've worked together for four years, for goodness sake. You don't think I nearly died when I saw you tied up by Kenton? That I was so terrified of losing you, never getting to see you again, when you were buried in that car? You don't get it, do you, Bones? When you're upset, I'm upset; when you're afraid, I'm afraid. Whenever you feel anything, I do too. And lately... lately you've cut me off from it. Bones, I've been half of myself for the past few days. I haven't known what to do. You don't understand how much you mean to me."

Silence while she stared at him, clearly shell-shocked.

He took a deep breath and then said the last thing, his heart pounding in his chest.

"I can't live without you, and what you've been doing, shutting me out, hurt so much, because I was so terrified that I might lose you. Bones," he breathed out deeply, and drew from Angela's words to get what he needed to out to her, "You don't think that people can care, because you've had such bad experience with it in the past... well, I care. I care so much, because... because, Bones..." God, it was so difficult to just say it. He was watching her face, which was pale and afraid, and he very nearly stopped where he was without saying it. But he had to do it, and he couldn't just stop right there, not when he'd so nearly said it. It was like a physical thing, and if he didn't get rid of it, get it out of him, he might burst. "I love you," he whispered. "And I'd do anything to make you happy."

He could hear his heart beating rapidly in his chest, and the soft ticking of the clock on her wall. There was no other sound but the pulsing of blood in his ears. He held his breath as he waited for anything at all from her, the words he'd just said ringing in the air and hanging over them like a cloud. Now he just had to see if the storm would pass, or if the lightning was going to strike him.

Her eyes were too hard to read, thoughts clearly flashing through her mind faster than he could have been able to follow if he had been able to listen in.

And then she stood up and looked around her, as though searching for an escape. A moment later she vanished into her bedroom and he heard the door shut behind her. He was left to bury his head in his hands and once more wonder if he could ever make anything right again.

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**There will be more soon enough. Please let me know what you thought! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Since this is such a short chapter, I figured I'd put it up quickly for you. :)**

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She collapsed onto her bed, lying across it with her legs hanging over the edge and her hands holding her head. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she tried to keep calm... and for the most part failed.

She'd been trying so hard, so desperately, to keep him away... and he seemed to have somehow done the opposite and pushed himself in closer. Hadn't she been intensely obvious in blocking him out? How did he logically come to the conclusion that he should tell her these things when she was trying to isolate herself? Didn't he understand that she didn't _want_ him to care, or any of the others for that matter?

A sigh hissed through her lips, and she ran her hands through her hair, searching frantically through her mind for some indication at all that she was in control. She wasn't finding any, since the situation had turned completely around on her, and that worried her more than anything else so far had. Except maybe for those words that he'd spoken... yes, those terrified her most. But she wasn't going to think about them now.

She'd allow herself to focus on those later... for now she looked for the fault in what she'd been doing. The minute that case had turned down the path towards tracing over a very similar parallel to what she had faced personally she'd been dreading being confronted over it. He would try to comfort her, and he would try to hunt down everyone that had ever hurt her. He was such a ridiculous male with how protective he was over her. She was _not_ his to protect. She could take care of herself... she didn't want him to do anything that indicated she relied on him.

No matter what, she was not going to _let_ herself rely on him. His surgery had taught her that... her _reaction_ to his surgery had taught her that. She'd gotten in too close, it was only logical to start digging her way out now that she'd noticed what she was heading towards.

Because if he had died... how would she have handled that? _Probably like last time, huh Brennan?_ The voice in her head, the voice of reason, argued with her. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter. She didn't want to think about that. It was too... painful. And she hated that it _was_ painful. It was like so many of the other things in her life that she'd survived through... the scars stayed behind, the memories that she suppressed but could never erase fully...

He cared about her, or at least that was what his reasoning was... and she couldn't come up with an argument against it. Everything he'd ever done for her, all those moments, all those times when he'd been the one who was there to reassure her, make things better... save her... they all rushed in and she groaned, trying to fight them off.

She couldn't do this, not now. She couldn't start thinking about everything that she'd went through with him... it made it worse. She should know, with those two weeks of not being able to get his face out of her mind, his voice echoing behind everything she said. She'd heard him responding to everything she said, him teasing her and telling her to speak English... and he hadn't actually been there. He'd been dead to her. That was what she was trying to do now... and if she succeeded then neither of them would have to go through this, suffer the terror of a connection and the threat of losing it. She'd been such a fool to let it in at all... she should have seen what was happening. She should have realized how dangerous it was after she thought she lost him that first time.

This second time, though? Almost losing him to that surgery... watching him sleep for four days... realizing that he'd dreamt the storyline that she'd been working on... If he _knew_ she'd come up with it rather than just dreaming it up from his own imagination, then he would realize that she'd let herself care about him... and she wouldn't be able to escape.

This was her way of escape.

The case, too, had been a reason. She didn't want to talk about this, and she didn't want anyone's sympathy. So she hadn't given anyone a _chance_ to offer it to her. She wanted to just be left alone, where it was so much safer.

She didn't have to worry about getting hurt if she didn't let anyone get close enough to abandon her, after all.

It didn't matter if he promised he'd never leave... how could he promise something like that when anything could happen to shatter it? A brain tumor... none of them could have foreseen it. Getting shot? It could happen any day, with his job. Freak accident, car crash, kidnapped, buried alive... any number of things could happen, could occur without any foresight from either of them. And then he'd be gone from her, and it would be all the worse for her if she let herself gain more memories, if she let it continue... let him mean more to her than he already did. Then he already _had_, she corrected herself. There was no more. She could not let him care about her, or her care about him. She was going to have to find away to fix this whole situation. Even if it meant never seeing him again.

That sank in slowly, but once it fully reached her she sighed and bit her lip. It _was_ the only way, she told herself firmly. And once the idea had latched on she knew she couldn't ignore it. Not when it was completely right. He'd keep trying, because he just didn't understand what he was risking. She'd thought about it, when she was writing while he was in that coma, and she'd thought it was worth the risk, worth doing what everyone else did naturally. But now she saw she'd been wrong, and that they were all wrong. How fast it had hit her... when he'd said those three words, _"Who are you?"_ It had taken her breath away, and the pain had hit her like a brick wall. That he could not remember her... the terror of that idea had not faded even after he'd explained his confusion and tried to understand what had happened to him. It had only begun to ebb once she realized that she could _not_ take the risk. That she could not bear the pain associated, even if she had once been so foolish as to think of it as reasonable.

She was safer, and better off, if she stayed to herself. If she isolated herself, and remained that way. It had worked for years... she'd been able to do what she loved at work with minimal distraction or contact. And it had worked brilliantly up until she met him... up until she'd gotten _hope_ for something better. Childish hope... how ridiculous it was to wish for something she couldn't have. No, she was not going to let it happen to her anymore.

Rationality. Logic. Those would be her lifeline, as they had been for so long. They, unlike people, were always trustworthy. They did not fail, they did not abandon her, and most importantly, they did not fade or die. They were constant. Nothing could change them... they would always be there for her, and people would not.

Her hope was not coming back.

With that thought exhausted, her brain circled back to how she'd gotten here in the first place. His statement from only a moment ago. His claims that he cared about her... that he loved her. She shivered, biting down harder on her lip. It could be true, she knew that. He'd sounded... incredibly sincere.

_That doesn't change anything_, logic spoke for her again. Rationally, she knew that was right. It didn't change her standing on the situation. It didn't matter that he cared, didn't even matter if he actually loved her or not. She was still unable to change her position in relation to it. She could not let him in, not after all they'd been through and how close they'd come so many times to either of them dying. Statistics were not on their side. They couldn't keep surviving near death encounters. Eventually, one of them would be unable to defeat whatever the threat was, and then it would be over.

It would be so much simpler to end it herself. She hated guessing, hated waiting and wondering fearfully what was going to happen next... when she would next suffer... when the next time would be... hiding and knowing she would be found...

She cut the line of thought off, refusing to let herself go back to that. She'd been thinking about it often enough lately, and she didn't want to go to it once more. It had filled the silences between her and him, the cold air between them fueled from her by the memories and the terror. If those situations had taught her anything, though, it was to be prepared for anything, and to avoid heading towards any situation that could lead to doubting herself, or lead to getting hurt.

Finally she sat up, staring hard at the opposite wall.

It _was_ the only way. And she wasn't just doing it for herself. He might not understand, and the others at the Jeffersonian might not understand, but she was saving them from more pain in the future. She wasn't going to let herself fall into old habits, let herself depend on someone, let herself trust someone...

And there would be no more need for her to tell him not to call her Bones...

Because she wouldn't be around to hear it.

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**Okay, please don't kill me for that. And I will try to post more soon.**


	4. Chapter 4

She'd barely been gone for three minutes before he picked up on sound coming from the other room. He stood and headed warily up the hall, stopping in front of the closed door and leaning towards it with a frown.

It sounded like... what did that sound like?

And then he drew in a breath as he recognized it. She was rummaging through drawers, and he could hear the scraping of hangers being slid to the side in her closet. Oh God, no...

"Bones?" he called nervously, rapping on the wood. "Bones, please talk to me!"

No response except for the continuation of the previous noises. She was going to ignore him completely.

He considered just opening the door, since he knew that it didn't have a lock on it, but he had a very strong feeling she would resent that just as much as she would have if he'd broken down her front door upon his arrival. So he leaned against the opposite wall, knowing that his only option was to try and stop her from leaving when she did come out.

Why was she doing this? Why couldn't she accept that he cared about her... that he loved her? _Because she's Bones, idiot._ He groaned and tilted his head back so it banged against the wall behind him. She had to make things so much more difficult then they had to be... She was probably scared, though, of emotions and feelings and all that crap Sweets preached about.

Suddenly he wished he'd paid a bit closer attention during their therapy sessions. He could certainly use some help getting through to her... and that hurt. He'd always been just about the only person who could get through to her, and now he was thinking he needed help... what had happened to his life? Where had it gone?

"You aren't thinking of leaving in the middle of a case, are you, Bones?" he called to her. If she wasn't going to care about leaving him, maybe she would care more about that victim that needed her help in order to get justice.

Still no response. He swore under his breath and closed his eyes. He just didn't know what to do anymore. He was running out of ideas and the stress was eating away at him. He felt like he barely had any strength to argue with her, even if the argument was the only connection he still had with her. But he was not going to give up on her, no matter what it took out of him. There was no way he was going to lose her. Not when he'd already told her he loved her.

And then the door opened and she went straight past him, a bag the only thing she carried. Her hair was a tangled mess, but she didn't seem to care. She was heading right for the door, but he ran after her and swiftly situated himself right in her way. Her eyes blazed briefly, but mostly he could see pleading in them. And then they hardened and she tried to push past.

He grabbed her arm. He couldn't help it, it was the instant reaction he had, the first thing he thought of for how to get her attention and get her to stay. She wrenched it from his grasp, baring her teeth as her nostrils flared. He took an involuntary step back from her, quickly raising his hands halfway to show he wasn't going to grab her again.

"Get out of my way," she said, her voice not a whisper or a shout, but rather a calm and firm tone that almost hit him worse. It was totally detached... separated from the voice he missed so much. Where had it gone? Had she locked that beautiful laugh and her teasing tone in the back of her mind, holding them prisoner so they could not escape? Did she ever intend to let them out again, or did she think that it would be best to just never show emotion at all... live with one purpose and not let anything get in her way?

He was not going to let her dissolve into work again, even if it meant following her across the country.

"Where are you going, Bones?" he asked desperately.

She flinched just slightly at her nickname, hissing ferociously, "Don't call me that!"

She didn't answer his question, but instead shoved him with her shoulder in an attempt to remove him from in front of her door. He'd almost forgotten just how strong she was, but he held his ground. She wasn't leaving. No way.

"Don't leave," he murmured, his face incredibly close to hers as she attempted to intimidate him into moving by invading his personal space. "You don't understand, Bones."

"What don't I understand, Agent Booth? Because what I understand right now is that you're in _my_ apartment, and you're harassing me. _Get out._"

He sighed, his shoulders sagging dejectedly. And then he tried the only defense he had left to him. "I miss you," he whispered. "God, Bones, I miss you so much. Please, don't do this."

There was hesitation in her expression, but it flashed past and a second later she shoved him and grabbed her doorknob. His hand once again found her arm as he seized her wrist and froze it before she could open the door.

"Please, just think about this... Temperance."

A glare that almost burned him was shot straight back at him. "Get. Your. Hand. Off. Of. me," she snarled, each word distinct and laced with venom. He released her instantly, and she had the door wrenched open and was through it before he could say another word to try and stop her.

He almost followed her. Almost chased her down the stairs, to her car, and tried to stop her again. But he didn't.

What could he do? He couldn't forcibly hold her here, nor could anything he said seem to get through to her. This was what she wanted... didn't that mean he should let her do it? He wanted what was best for her after all... and this was what she thought was best. This was what she wanted for herself.

Now he just had to pray that she would come back to him... that she would realize what she was doing _wasn't_ right. And when she did... well he'd be right here. He'd always be waiting for her, no matter how long it took.

* * *

"What?" Angela gasped, staring at him with huge eyes, her mouth slightly open and her eyebrows up at her hairline.

He looked away, unable to meet her horrified gaze any longer. "She's gone," he whispered again.

"No," Ange murmured, "No... _no_. She... she can't have... _gone_. She has to... she has to stay here. She... the lab... you, me, our... our _family!_ She's..." as she spoke her voice grew more and more frantic and he could see the moisture building up in her eyes. He held an arm out towards her and she immediately and gratefully collapsed against him, her body shaking with sobs. "I'm her best friend," she choked out.

"I know," he murmured back.

"What's going on?" an alarmed voice spoke up from nearby. Then there were running footsteps and Angela released him and threw her arms around the new arrival. "Whoa..." Hodgins gasped. "Ange? Ange what's wrong?"

She just shook her head against his chest, and the entomologist raised inquisitive and slightly suspicious eyes to him, as though this was his fault. And he supposed it probably was, in a way.

"Brennan took off," he explained grimly.

Hodgins' eyebrows shot up, "What, like... got on a plane?" He nodded silently. "Well... when's she... coming back?" Booth could tell he was nervous, asking it. The squint was just as afraid of hearing the answer as Booth was of _saying_ it.

"I don't know," he said softly, breaking eye contact and staring forlornly towards her dark office.

The shock on Hodgins face slowly transformed into pity and concern as he rubbed Angela's back and murmured comfort in her ear. "She'll come back, Ange, don't worry. We'll get her back..." he gave Booth a hard look over her back, and he winced. He was expecting him to take care of it, that simple glance said it all. He nodded fractionally, knowing that he didn't really have a choice... they were all counting on him, yes, but mostly his heart wasn't going to survive very long in her absence. He needed to be around her, or he'd... well he most certainly wouldn't be a _happy_ person to be around.

The squint gently relinquished the embrace on his girlfriend, and she pulled back, sniffling and blinking her eyes.

"Hey, Angie, why don't you go up to the lab lounge and get some... coffee or something? Try to relax, okay? I'll be right up to sit with you."

She nodded, her eyes flicking briefly, and pleadingly, to meet Booth's. Then she turned and walked away with her head down and the usual vibrancy of her steps completely gone.

"What happened?" Hodgins asked demandingly.

He should have expected this from him. He sighed, and then started to explain as best he could. "Well, you know that she's been... distant lately." There was a snort from Hodgins. Yes, it was a total understatement, he knew. "I tried to talk to her about it... Ange suggested that I inform her of how I felt about her so she'd... understand why I care so much. She didn't give me the chance yesterday... so I went to her apartment when she didn't show up this morning, and I... told her. And then she just took off to her room and started _packing_. I couldn't... you know, handcuff her to a table or something... so I had to let her go."

"You're going to _find_ her, though, right? You aren't seriously going to let her just spend the rest of her life in who-knows-where identifying bodies while the rest of us 'go on with our lives'?"

He winced at that last part, which Hodgins had very clearly put in quotation marks. He hated that line as much as the next guy... there was no way he was going to go on with his life, that was for sure. She _was_ his life, for goodness sake.

"I'm going to give her a little while," he started. Seeing the sudden flash of anger in Hodgins' eyes, he hurried to continue, "But I've already got a few of my buddies doing me some favors they owe me... I'll know where she is at all times, whether she wants me to or not."

This answer seemed to satisfy the other man, because he nodded and the only thing left in his eyes that could be identified as an emotion was a wisp of sadness.

"We miss her, too, man," he said quietly. "All of us. And you know, I'm really sorry. You're a good guy, Booth. Best one she's ever had; she'll see it eventually..."

He was surprised and a bit touched by the scientist's words. "Thanks. Really," he said sincerely. Hodgins gave him a weak smile, and then clapped him on the shoulder supportively before he headed off to meet back up with Ange, who would definitely be needing the company after finding out her best friend was gone with possible plans to not make contact with her probably ever again. He hadn't said all of that, of course, but he knew she'd come to that conclusion. He had.

Alone now, he did the only thing he could think of to do. It came as a natural instinct... when he wasn't with her, he called her. It was so normal that the feeling of his heart pounding in terror as his cell phone echoed the sound of the ringing in his ears was more evidence than anything about how upside-down his world had become, and how simply _wrong_ things were without her here with him.

"This is Dr. Temperance Brennan," her voicemail greeted him, "Please leave me a message and I'll call you back as soon as I can. Or you could try the lab." He breathed out a sigh he hadn't realized he'd been holding, feeling his throat tighten at the sound of her voice. It was increasingly more and more obvious just how different she'd become by just comparing this to how she'd sounded recently when confronting him.

The voice on the machine, which he'd always considered to be impersonal and more of a monotone than the way she usually talked... sounded beautiful. A relief to his ears. He hit the first speed-dial again, hoping she'd pick up, but also feeling a bit of relief at the fact that if she didn't, then he'd still hear that message again. He almost considered putting a recorder up to the cell so he could just listen to it over and over... imagine that everything was normal again.

He wasn't shocked she didn't pick up, but he also wasn't discouraged.

He went to her office, feeling as if he was intruding but at the same time not caring as he found comfort in her couch, with things important to her all around... her comforting scent still in the air. Then he continued to dial over and over again.

Until eventually he got the metallic voice of a recorded woman informing him that the phone he was trying to reach was not available.

She'd finally turned it off, and now he was left with nothing at all but the silence in her office, and the darkness that seemed to close in.

He was alone... and the realization hit him harder than he'd imagined it could.

...What if she never came back? What if... he stayed alone?

* * *

***Hides under a table***

**Eep... please don't kill me. I promise to stop the angst soon. Really. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry about the slow update :( I wasn't in much of a writing mood for the past week... but I'm back to it now!! I will try very hard to have another chapter up before I leave on vacation next week. **

**I hope you like this one; I chose to go back to Brennan's POV for it.**

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She tossed the phone onto the seat next to her, leaning her head back and feeling grateful no one was occupying the seat that was back to back with hers. It landed softly on top of her hastily packed bag and stayed there, the screen dark and empty. She'd lost track of how many times it had vibrated, had informed her she had an incoming call. She'd watched it rattle and spin itself in a circle, unable to move far from within the impression in the fabric of the bag that it had rested in.

The sound had been painful, but at the same time she'd been unable to will herself to just pick it up and hit the button that would quiet it. There had been that temptation to hit the answer button rather than the power, and she just couldn't trust herself to hold it in her hand... she might end up speaking with him. She might end up changing her mind when she heard his voice. And she _couldn't_ do that. She was getting away from all of this... and she wasn't going back. She _would not_ go back. No matter what, she told herself.

A sigh hissed through her lips, and she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and holding her forehead in her hands, her fingers running through her unkempt hair. She still wasn't even sure where she was going. It wasn't as if she could just take off to Guatemala or some other foreign country without arrangements made in advance... and those arrangements would always go through the Jeffersonian. They were planned, pre-scheduled. Sure, she'd gone before on short notice, but that had been after quick negotiations with Goodman and an exchange of information and plane tickets. She couldn't go totally unannounced.

Where else was there to go, then, where Booth and the others would not or could not follow her to? El Salvador would be the most isolating, probably, but she wasn't going back there. A shiver went through her as she recalled her last visit. She wasn't afraid... she could take care of herself and if she were to return there she wouldn't let the same sequence of events play out... but it seemed illogical to go to such a dangerous location when there were no doubt other places where she could find work. She was the top of her field, after all. Once word got out she was looking for a new environment to work in, she'd have plenty of offers.

_Offers that Booth and the Jeffersonian will know about_, the rational voice in her head reminded her. She gritted her teeth together in frustration. Where could she go, then? If she went on a dig then eventually she'd have to leave it and find somewhere else. She needed something more... permanent. She needed a new lab. One that didn't involve the government, or field work, or people who cared about her personal life. She needed someplace where she could work and be respected for that aspect of herself only, with no one poking into why she acted the way she did and why she had left where she had been first.

It would be a relief... to start over. Like when she'd gotten into college, and she'd escaped the foster system. There she had been respected for her intelligence and her work ethic. Her opinions mattered and were of interest to the other students and her professors. No one cared about her parents, because no one _knew_ who she'd been before then. They only cared about what she was right then, and that was what she wanted most. To not be viewed for the past, to not be pitied for what she'd had to suffer through, to not be immediately judged as inferior because her clothing smelled like garbage bags and she had no friends.

None of that would matter, and she wouldn't _let_ it matter. She wasn't going to talk about the past, not like she'd done with Angela, and then Booth, and eventually Hodgins and Cam. She wouldn't let them in, and she wouldn't make any of the mistakes she had before. Things were going to be different now. Things were going to be _safer_ now.

Her eyes roved back to the departures board, searching for someplace to go. New York... it would be a change of pace, certainly. But she wasn't sure she'd much enjoy all the crowds and the noise. She liked isolation, and while she would be well isolated in the midst of a crowd that didn't even look at her or care who she was... the whole idea just didn't appeal. She liked the city, just not that _much_ of a city. That put Los Angeles out of the picture as well, which was fine with her. She'd already been to California with her job at the Jeffersonian. She didn't need the reminder.

There were always remote places, too. She could go to someplace like Wisconsin, or Idaho... no, she couldn't picture that, remembering the small town in Washington with the cannibal case. New England, she pondered, would be a reasonable location. It was far enough away, and perhaps no one would expect that to be where she went. Boston, she considered, would be a good place to set herself in. She'd lectured at Harvard once and rather enjoyed it, and that had been before she'd formed the major attachments at the Jeffersonian, so she didn't have to worry about lingering memories from connections she'd had during her last visit there.

A teaching job, that would be quite welcome. She already had lectured at plenty of locations worldwide, and she'd had a class full of students looking to go into anthropology. She'd trained Zach as well as the current group of grad-students that was working at her old job. If Harvard didn't have an opening then some other university or institute probably would. And the Harvard professors that had arranged for her to lecture in the first place had rather enjoyed her theories... she'd been offered a job there, actually. If they still wanted her, it would work out quite well.

With that settled, she leaned back in the seat, content to wait a while longer before buying tickets. After all, she wasn't going to make this easy for the FBI agents sitting near the windows, the ones who'd been sitting there an hour already... watching her in what they thought was a discrete manner. It was annoying, yes, but she'd circumvent them easily enough. It would only take a few plane switches for them to lose her at any given airport she chose to route herself to. She smirked to herself, the first hint of a smile she'd allowed in quite some time, as she pictured their dumbstruck faces when she either outright kicked one of them to get them off her tail, or simply vanished. She could always use the bathroom as an escape, since she knew there were some with two entrances. They could stand outside for an hour before they guessed she wasn't actually inside anymore.

Serve them right for trying to interfere. Maybe next time they'd mind their own business and not run off on errands for her former-partner.

"Damn," she muttered under her breath. She still hadn't sorted that mess out, or the one at the Jeffersonian. She'd left the resignation papers on her desk, since she'd filled them out a few days ago just in case, but she'd still have to call and tell Cam so she could get them and finish the process. Or maybe she'd circumvent that whole messy endeavor of calling her and go over her head to Goodman, whom she would have an easier time quickly explaining to and hanging up on. Cam would no doubt try to fit in a question or even attempt to convince her not to quit. She didn't want to have to deal with that.

As to the other matter, she'd have to place a call to the Hoover Building as well, so she could inform Director Cullen that she no longer wished to pursue her partnership with Agent Booth and she was going to find work elsewhere. He'd never truly liked her, so that wouldn't be as great of a challenge, although he might ask for some reasoning, since she'd solved quite a lot of cases for him and he might not appreciate losing the asset to the FBI. But the Jeffersonian would continue to cooperate with the FBI, and one of the interns would be the new forensic anthropologist for them once they got their doctorate. Perhaps it would be Mr. Nigel-Murray, or Wendell... but it didn't really matter to her anymore. The affairs of the Medico-Legal Laboratory and their cooperation with the FBI didn't apply to her anymore. She was free of all of that.

Her breath caught in her throat at that unwanted thought of never seeing her pristine workplace again, where she'd done so much and come to be so comfortable with... oh god, she hadn't cleaned out her office. Her mind flashed through a quick inventory of what was there, and if any of it was so immensely important that she might have to go retrieve it before taking off... but nothing came to mind. Except an image of a small Smurf figurine which sat on her desk, which was promptly and irritably shoved out of her thoughts. It was immensely frustrating that everything always related back to what she didn't want to think about.

Finally she just got to her feet and made her way to the front desks to purchase tickets for a flight to Miami, Florida, which would be her first stop in her path of evasion. It was frustrating to not be able to just go straight to her destination, but she would sleep off her tiredness on the plane, and besides that there really was no problem. She didn't have to be anywhere, and once she was in the air headed away from DC most of her problems would start to subside. And as soon as she got rid of her tails she could consider herself to be truly free and alone once more.

As she stepped away from the counter and headed off towards her terminal she saw the two men go up to the same teller. One gestured towards her, the other discretely flashed his badge. The woman looked flustered and quickly began typing on her keyboard, no doubt pulling up the flight information for where she was flying. She turned her head back around and continued on her way, not really caring that they were making her out to be some sort of threat to national security just because they'd chose to follow her. What that teller thought didn't matter, after all. What anyone thought of her didn't matter. What _did_ matter was what she thought, and at that moment she felt lighter than she had in a while. It felt good to be this free of concern... and it was bound to be amusing, getting rid of those two.

So she reached the right sitting area, dropped into yet another uncomfortably stiff seat, and pulled an anthropology journal out of her bag to read. She did still have another hour or so before take-off, after all, so she might as well get comfortable.

But her mind didn't focus so well on the words, and she found that all to soon she was back to considering where her life was headed from here, and how she was going to get to that. Her phone would have to go, but she thought it would be far better if she hung on to it, and then ditched it in wherever she ended up after Miami. She could always turn it on, too, so that if anyone was looking for her they'd end up halfway across the country and have wasted plenty of time.

She was being far to indulgent with her imagination, though. Yes, he'd sent agents to follow her, but she was giving herself far too much freedom in her theories. He probably wanted to make sure she was okay, since he believed he cared about her, but once she showed that she wasn't coming back, he wasn't likely to track her cell phone and follow it to who-knew-where. No, he'd realize that he'd been foolish and not thinking correctly. He'd come to the same conclusion she had so many times, that he never really would have stayed with her anyways. He'd think back, and he'd see what she saw. Mistake after mistake. He'd know that he they shouldn't have let themselves care so much about each other. And then he'd go back to working murders with whoever they assigned to him, and he'd be satisfied with what he had once more. And, somewhere far away, she'd be satisfied with her choice, too.

Because if she didn't believe that now, and truly think that she _would_ be... then she might lose that all together.

* * *

**Well, I hope you enjoyed that chapter... and I'm curious about what you would all like. Should I have Brennan gone for a while... give her time to realize that she misses them on her own, or should I have Booth hunt her down immediately? I have a few ideas, but suggestions are welcome :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Wow, this story seems to just keep going; I really have very little clue as to how it will all end up. I guess it's just one of those stories that writes itself as it goes. I have to say, though, this is one of the most fun to write stories I've done so far on here. Well, without further ado, let the angst continue!! ;)**

* * *

"What do you mean, you lost her?" Booth said in disbelief. He knew he shouldn't be surprised, given how well he knew Bones, but still... he'd expected they'd be able to at least see where she ended up. "Where did you _lose_ her?"

"Well she went to Miami first... we notified some agents there before we followed, and when we lost her in the crowd they got the info we needed and tracked her to Dallas, where she apparently left the airport... and then she rented a car, we got the company name..." he heard the agent shuffling papers.

"Not important. What happened next?" he said, resting his head in one hand as he waited for a response.

"She headed north, and then got on _another _plane, and went to Los Angeles. That's where we lost her. Darn airport was so crowded, and we couldn't exactly call in all the feds for you, Booth, it's not like she's dangerous or even a criminal."

"Yeah, I know," he sighed. With his eyes closed he continued, "Did you ask around, check her credit card usage, show her picture to the staff?"

"She must have paid cash, man, and none of the tellers remembered seeing her. She could have used a computer or one of those automated machines to buy the ticket."

"Okay, you did everything you could. Thanks a lot, Rob, I owe you guys one."

"No problem, Booth. It was nice getting some time off of work to run a favor. And... we might just spend a little longer over here. It's sunny, and there are plenty of beaches..."

"Yeah, I get it. Have a good time."

"See you soon, man."

"Sure." He hung up with a deep sigh. So she was gone. Really and truly gone. Now what exactly was he supposed to do?

With a tired look in his eyes, he hit his speed-dial and hoped it would actually ring this time. It did. No answer, but it was on, and that meant he could try to run a trace. His phone rang before he could even start with that, though, and he glanced at the ID. He practically jumped out of his skin when he saw "Bones" flashing on the screen.

"Bones!" he cried as he pressed it to his ear.

"Um... sir?" Rob's voice said nervously. "It... it would appear that your scientist... slipped her phone into my, uh... pocket."

He buried his head in his hands. "Thanks for the info," he said resignedly, and hung up without saying goodbye. It looked like that option was out... and he was running out of possibilities.

Why had she done this? Sure, he knew that given the option between confronting emotions and fleeing, she always would choose to flee. But why, after all this time, did she turn around and just... vanish? Even before she'd physically taken off, his Bones had disappeared, buried underneath the scientist, the rationalist, the empty and cold woman whose face was blank, eyes mocking and unsympathetic. Was she still under there? Was the woman he loved and cared for so deeply still under all those layers, hidden behind shielding stone walls? Would she ever come back out, let go off all that protection and allow him into her life again?

And if she didn't... how was he supposed to survive? He needed her now like he needed oxygen, and water, and food. He required her presence, or he was not himself. He was weak, and helpless, and ultimately lost in a whirlwind of emotions and fears he couldn't even describe or put names to. He was drowning in all of that even now, and he knew it would only get worse.

Everyone always said time heals all wounds... but how could that even be possible? How could he even imagine a day when her not being there wouldn't hurt, wouldn't throb like a physical wound that simply wouldn't scar over, that refused to stop bleeding. And he couldn't even find the will within himself to try to staunch the flow. Why should he try to save himself, try to be happy again, when he never could truly reach that level from which he'd fallen unless she was in his arms? It was partly his fault, too, for pushing her, for being so concerned that she couldn't stand it. He should have done something differently, he should have used different words, he should have yelled at her to get her to understand, he should have put his arms around her and made her see just how much he needed her, cared for her, loved her.

He had failed her, and now he might never get her back. Perhaps he didn't even deserve to get her back. Maybe she'd left because she truly didn't want his comfort, didn't want anything to do with him. Maybe she'd be better off without him, maybe the distance would make _her_ heal... even if it left him dying here.

The only relief, the sole reprieve in the midst of the storm of his thoughts, was the possibility that she might be happy, if not today, maybe soon. She might find hope and joy somewhere else, and she might be able to live out the rest of her life with some measure of the happiness she'd always been denied... that he thought she'd found with him... but he'd been wrong about that, like everything else.

His eyes flew open as he senses someone come into his office. He was all set to tell them to get out, leave him alone, tell them to just find someone else for whatever it was and he was certainly not in the mood for anything at all... he even opened his mouth, his eyes hard and fully decided, his eyebrows knit together in part-irritation, part-unsuppressed-anger. And then he froze where he was, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

"Angela?" he choked out in shock. She gave him a sad smile and came around his desk, seating herself carefully on the edge of it.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Ange... what are you doing here?"

"Goodman just called Cam," she said, her eyes filled with sorrow, but thankfully not swimming with tears this time. He could read the pain in them, and feel it connecting to his own suffering. "She called him, Booth," she whispered.

"What... what did she say?" he managed to ask.

"She informed him she was quitting her job," the words slammed into him, and although they made sense; they were something that was to be expected... they also made it all the more real.

"What did he tell her?" he asked, just because it felt like he had to keep the conversation going. He needed every bit of information from this phone call. Maybe he'd give Goodman himself a call later, get every word, every detail. Even the smallest thing... perhaps could give him some hope, some idea of what was going through her mind...

"He was... alarmed, I'd say. But she didn't exactly give him room for argument... she told him that... that she left her resignation papers on her desk, and that Cam could go pick them up. She said that he could appoint the next forensic anthropologist and... she didn't need any of the things in her office... the staff could..." she took a shaky breath, "The staff could dispose of them... and the artifacts could be put on display."

He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, foolishly hoping that maybe it would all go away when he opened them again. It didn't.

"What are we going to do?" Ange whispered, and he had to wonder if she was talking more to him or to herself. She was staring helplessly at his office wall, and he was forced to think she might not even know he was still there. The desperation and loss that radiated from her was like a fire burning in front of him, and it devoured every last sense of hope he had left to him. The usually vibrant artist was gone, just as his Bones was, and as he was. They were all gone, leaving behind shells of who they had been. Did Bones not realize what she meant to all of them... that she held them all together, that without her... they were like _this?_ She mustn't, because surely, _surely_, she would not have left them if she did.

Or maybe she would have, since it seemed like he barely knew her at all. Had he ever known her, or had he just deluded himself into a sense of well-being around her... making himself truly believe that he understood her? Because all evidence pointed to the contrary... to that he had been wrong, that he had been foolish in his beliefs of a close connection between them. And he couldn't even bring up a memory to the forefront of his mind which would support the opposite, that would prove he and her had been best friends and maybe more, because even trying to do so was like being burned. Every time he got close to grasping at the edges of a happy moment, a peaceful silence of content between the two of them... it singed him, kept him from latching on fully because reliving it would do no good... would leave him gasping for air and wishing for a future that was now unreachable.

"Booth?" she got his attention back. "Booth... you aren't going to quit on Bren, are you?"

He sighed and the breath hissed out of him. He stayed quiet for a long time, and when he looked up Angela had her eyes closed. As he watched a single tear slipped down her face.

"Ange," he whispered, hearing a clip of desperation break into his voice as the word wisped into the air between them. "She... she doesn't _want_ to be around me..."

She just shook her head. "Of all people, I though it would be you who never let her down," she choked out, and then she stood and whisked out the door at a half-jog, disappearing around the corner. He buried his head in his hands once more, covering and rubbing at his eyes with his palms.

Well, there was no way he was going to let another person down, not when so much damage had been done so far. She'd evaded being followed, yes, but she was not going to be free of him. Because... maybe if he followed, just _maybe,_ she'd see then how important she was to him. That he'd follow her to the ends of the earth... and whether or not she wanted him to do so, he wasn't going to pursue and protect. Angela's hurt voice burned into him, scorning him. He wasn't going to do that, he wasn't going to be yet another person who just let her go, who moved on without her. He would not abandon her.

And so he got to his feet and headed off to call in a few more favors.

* * *

**Well, I've got a start on the next chapter already, another Brennan one, so it shouldn't be too long before that is up as well. Thanks to everyone who's given me feedback; it's so wonderful to know that you like what I've written, and criticism or suggestions are always welcome as well. :)**

**PS- OMG did anyone else see both the promos for season 5!? I almost died when I heard Booth say that!!!**


	7. Chapter 7

A plane landed in the middle of the mist of an early New England morning. Clearly it wasn't going to be warm, given the thick layer of menacing gray clouds overhead. The passengers were mostly an assortment of people who had evidently been on vacation and were showing the signs of it. Kids were whining with promises from parents that they'd be home soon, and couples were stretching their sunburned limbs and looking disappointed that they'd no doubt be shortly back at work.

The woman sitting off to the side, her ice blue eyes gazing almost emptily out the window, wasn't quick to stand up. She waited for most of the plane to empty before she got up. She didn't have a carry-on, so she walked out with just her purse slung over her shoulder, jaw set so her mouth was a thin and almost disapproving line. There was no trace of excitement, or happiness, or relief, or anything at all in her features. She was blank, drained, free of emotion.

Her luggage was quickly collected inside the air conditioned airport, which was far too chilly given that the air outside was cold itself. She didn't complain, though, since there wasn't really anyone to complain to and she was not one to talk to herself. The thought barely even formed fully before it was blown away and filed neatly in the back of her mind. Not important, it was labeled. The temperature, the people around her, the noises, the shouts, the atmosphere... none of it mattered. Not really, when one looked objectively at the world. None of it was of immense value, so she paid little attention.

With her light bag thrown over her shoulder, she headed for the exit, intent on catching a taxi and heading off to find a reasonable hotel. Despite everything else, a sanitary room was something she _did_ count as important, as well as a somewhat comfortable bed.

It wasn't much of a challenge to find a place to stay. It was small, and the layer of dust was a bit of an irritation, but it would be satisfactory, at least until she was able to find someplace more suitable. Maybe a local would be able to point her in the right direction, once she got better situated.

She didn't bother unpacking, but rather dumped her bag on top of the small dresser and sprawled herself across the bed with a sigh. Yesterday had been a long day, with her ending up in a small Louisiana town where she'd spent the night before setting out early to catch another plane and arrive here. At least she was no longer being followed... it was a relief to be able to relax and not have to worry about eyes on her, and think any stranger might be reporting to the FBI. No, she knew they were gone.

She blew the hair off of her face, and then sat up and went tiredly back out, her stomach informing her that not eating for the past day hadn't been such a bright idea. She hadn't really felt the need to, at the time, though.

Two doughnuts later and a cup of coffee sitting next to her, she flipped through television stations in her hotel room, her eyes not catching anything she found remotely interesting. Bright and colorful cartoon characters on one station briefly caught her attention, and she was reminded of someone. A moment later she shut the tv off and banged her head against the backboard of the bed when she tilted it behind her in frustration.

"Ow," the word came out through her chapped lips. She rubbed the back of her head in irritation, and felt the start of a headache forming, caused by the combination of the throbbing from the injury and from the whole calamity of events from the past twenty-four hours.

She headed over to her bag and pulled out some headache medicine, which she had fortunately anticipated needing. She swallowed two pills and then collapsed once more across the sheets; not bothering to pull aside the last of them and get underneath, she dropped her head onto the pillow and let herself fall asleep, even though she knew her dreams would be anything but peaceful.

Lately she'd been seeing herself at fifteen every time she closed her eyes, and feeling the feels and terrors of that time in her life all over again. Tonight wasn't any different.

A dark basement surrounded her, a thin carpet not keeping out the chill of the cement below. She lay on a thin mattress, eyes squeezed tight shut, ears listening helplessly for even the slightest sound to give away _his_ arrival. The top stair always squeaked, and the one below it creaked. She always knew when it was coming, and she didn't know if that was better or if that was worse. The fear that shot through her whenever the slightest sound came to her was binding and complete. Terror... she hated it.

Footsteps overheard... a door opening... her eyes snapped open, attempting to see in the pitch black. Nothing... her eyes could see nothing... but the hair on the back of her neck was stiff and she was shivering.

Squeak. Creak.

She knew she was whimpering, and she tried to stop the sound but couldn't. More shivers wracked through her as she curled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. He was coming... he was near...

Rough hands grabbed her, and she cried out in horror and alarm, even though she'd been expecting it. They pinned her down... they held her prisoner as she struggled desperately, helplessly... knowing it would do no good.

"No, no..." she whispered through cracked lips, "Please...no... _please_... please don't..." the words wisped out, unheeded as the terror heightened. "No!" she cried, as the hands moved elsewhere. "Please!" She couldn't get out from under him, she couldn't fight someone so much stronger than her...

She could not win.

"Booth!" the word screamed from her lips, and she awoke gasping, sitting bolt-upright in the bed. Her hand sought the light switch and hastily flipped it. The lamp next to the bed came on, giving the room a golden hew. She breathed out a sigh as she quickly assessed that she was alone, safe, and there was no threat anywhere nearby. She went and checked the lock on the door, though, and then slid down to the floor next to it, feeling drained.

A glance to the side showed that the clock read two in the morning. She let out a choked sigh at that, and then brushed angrily at the tears she hadn't even noticed until now.

_Idiot,_ she thought to herself furiously, horrified that she'd cried out his name. If she kept this up, she'd never get any peace. Well, today she'd just have to go out searching for a job, wouldn't she? Get her mind off of... everything else. Off of the past, which could not be changed, and her decision to leave DC, which was also not going to alter. It could _not_ alter.

She'd made that choice, she'd rationally decided what was best for her and for everyone else, and if she didn't stick to it then she'd be second-guessing herself, and she refused to do that. She didn't need him, and they didn't need her... as long as they found a reasonable substitute in the anthropology situation, that was. As a person... no, they did not need her in that way. Better off without, she reasoned, just as she was better off away from all of them.

With a nod to affirm her beliefs and keep herself satisfied with what she'd done, she went back over to the bed, and carefully climbed back in. She would get some more sleep, she told herself, and it was _not_ going to be filled with the past, it would be filled with _nothing_.

No such luck.

* * *

The ringing of his phone startled him out of his silent reverie. He snatched it off the desk.

"Booth," he said quickly, and listened as the voice on the other line explained the details to him. A sigh slid from between his lips and his muscles relaxed as he slid back in his chair. "Thanks, man. I really owe you one." The agent on the other line laughed and then spoke up again... "Good. Great work, Rick. I knew I could count on you."

The phone easily slid back into its cradle.

Well, he had some vacation time coming anyways... he got to his feet, slinging his jacket over his shoulder as he headed around the desk and made his way to the door. Just a few quick calls... his cell phone appeared in his hand as he locked the office behind him... and then he could catch the fastest plane available.

_Boston_... he was on his way.

He was going to find her.

* * *

**Of course Booth wasn't going to quit on her! Sure, he needed some prompting to realize that she was wrong about what was best for her... but he wouldn't give up on Bones so quick! I still don't know exactly how long this will be, or what else is going to happen, but I think there will be a reunion sometime soon :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Really sorry for the long wait. Hope this chapter was worth it. Enjoy. **

* * *

The dreary light of the sun through the grey cover of clouds was still bright as Booth walked through the slow revolving doors behind a group of chatty young men and women who clearly lived in the area, with their Red Sox shirts and their obvious Boston accents.

He found his way to a bus which went to a rental car station, at which location he got himself the cheapest car he could, and gritted his teeth as it went over the first bumps in the road. He couldn't afford to spend the money that he'd like to on a much nicer car, because as it was he was low on cash, and the plane trip and the hotel costs were certainly going to take a chunk out of his savings and his next few paychecks. He didn't really want to think about that, actually.

His cell phone lit up as he held down the power button, and he put it in the cup holder as he maneuvered down the streets. Boston wasn't exactly a location he was in often... getting around was not going to be _fun_, per se. But he had to find her, so he was willing to do whatever it took. And... could it _really_ be worse than England? With that thought in mind, he turned on to a busy street and then leaned back as he observed the traffic.

"Where would Bones go..." he muttered under his breath, thinking about all the things that made her comfortable. A museum would be her ideal environment, surrounded in the safety of artifacts and scientific details... but he also knew her well enough to know that she was currently in her flight response, meaning she was going to avoid anything of the like. She wouldn't be in someplace that was anything like the Jeffersonian.

He had to say, he was a bit shocked that she hadn't gone to some foreign country on a dig, since he quite clearly remembered the story Ange had told him about _why_ she'd gone to Guatemala that time right before they became partners. When she wanted to forget everything, or make the world go away, she dug up skeletons far, far away, and apparently hoped it was all gone when she got back. Or she just ignored it should it happen to still be there. Whatever _it_ happened to be. Guatemala? Apparently it had been a combination of a break-up with some guy named Peter –he only remembered the name because he'd logged it into the 'protect Bones from' list that he'd formed– and the addition of himself into the picture with the FBI help he'd been demanding so rudely.

Why she _hadn't_ done so again was still a mystery to him. Not that it was a negative... no, it was definitely a positive that he didn't have to chase her through some horrible hell-hole. Yes, the fact that she'd run away to someplace in America was certainly a plus for him.

With the cell pressed to his ear, he made his way a few more feet forward.

"Hey, Rick, can we see about that tracking now?" he asked.

"No problem, Booth. What was the number again?"

He fed her number to the other agent and then waited in silence.

"Sorry, man, she's still got it turned off. Want me to check credit card usage?"

"Yeah." More silence. He drummed his fingers on the wheel and then inched forward a bit more.

"None... she must have quite a bit of cash on her, Seel; she's gotta be set up someplace by now, I mean she got practically a day's head start on you... she had to have spent the night somewhere."

"I know," he said tiredly. "And I don't doubt that she brought money so she couldn't be tracked... see if you can get into her bank records without any official intervention, find out if she made a withdrawal and from where..."

A sigh from the other line, "Sorry, Booth, I don't think I can. We'd need a warrant for that, probably, and you know that this isn't an official investigation. I really wish I could help you, but I'm using all my resources as it is..."

He closed his eyes and gripped the steering wheel, trying to think. A horn blaring startled him, and he drove forward through the set of lights, turning into a fast food restaurant and swinging into a parking space.

"Thanks for trying, I really owe you one."

"No problem, this paperwork is miserable, and you know I'd much rather be searching for someone on the network then working with a pen and paper. If you need anything at all, give me a ring and I'll see what I can do for you."

"Thanks."

"Yeah, and good luck. I think you'll need it."

"I will. Bye."

A grunt of acknowledgement came to his ears, and then nothing. He tossed the phone down on the seat next to him and banged his fist on the steering wheel, glaring out of the windshield. Another dead end. Good God, why did Bones have to make this so difficult... why did she have to be so smart with evading him... why did she have to _want_ to evade him at all? Why couldn't everything just be so much easier...

He growled to himself, wishing with all his heart that he had her with him, in his arms. That was all he needed, all that mattered to him anymore... and it was gone, leaving him clutching mist and wondering if all of it had even been real or merely a mirage that he'd never actually held in the first place.

"Bones..." he murmured to the chilly air, knowing there would be no answer but still hoping foolishly to hear her voice, even if it was just the echo of a memory. But nothing came to the forefront of his mind, and he just shook his head sadly at himself, and then started up the car again, knowing that he'd never be able to rest or sit still. He needed to be on the move, or he might lose it completely. The small car pulled back out into traffic.

* * *

"Ange?"

"Booth!" the artist gasped into his ear, so loud that he pulled the cell away from his face slightly. "Did you find her?"

He smiled slightly, for the first time in quite awhile. "Yeah, I found her." It had only taken him two days of mindless searching and a bountiful usage of his contacts to do so.

"Oh, thank god..." Ange murmured in relief. "Have you talked to her? Is she coming back? Please tell me she is, Booth."

"I haven't talked to her quite yet... I'm following her around currently. I will soon, but I don't want to scare her away."

He could practically see Ange nodding as there was a short silence on the other end. "Okay," she said softly at long last. "I trust you, Booth. And... thank you. I don't know what I'd do if she just... never talked to us again. She's been my best friend for so long..."

"Yeah, I know. I can't really even... _imagine_ life without her, either... I'll see you soon, though, okay Angela? And I'll drag her back with me, whether she wants to come or not."

"...Can I come up there?" she asked suddenly, surprising him.

His eyebrows flew upwards and he opened his mouth before shutting it again. That was a good question. It would be easier if he was working alone, but Angela's support would be incredibly helpful. Plus, she might be able to help him out with the actual convincing part."

"I'll get back to you on that," he answered, making up his mind. "If I can't get her to come back when I talk to her the first time, then I'll be begging you to come and help me with it. But for now... stay put and I'll see what I can do."

"When are you going to talk to her?"

"Tonight," he said apprehensively. He wasn't sure how that was going to go, but 'not well' seemed to describe his predictions quite accurately.

"You'll call me, right? And tell me how it went?"

"Promise," he agreed.

After he'd hung up he felt a sense of dread sweep over him. How was he going to manage this? She'd made it so very crystal clear back in DC that she wanted nothing to do with him, whether he loved her or not, and here he was, all the way in Boston, about to try the same arguments all over again. He didn't know if he could handle the coldness and the rejection for a second time.

His attention was pulled from his thoughts at the sight of her coming out the front door of the hotel. He quickly started his engine and pulled out into traffic as soon as she'd got into a cab. Following it at a discrete distance, he couldn't help but stare at the back of her head, barely visible through the back window of the taxi. Forcing his eyes away, he kept his attention on the road. After all, he didn't want her sensing she was being watched and turning around to analyze the cars behind hers. He might be two cars back, but she would certainly see him if she _looked_.

The taxi stopped at a little diner, and he watched as she paid and went inside. He found a spot to park and then walked back, cautiously walking in and looking around to locate her. There, in a booth all the way in the corner. A waitress poured her some coffee as she looked tiredly through the menu. He considered going to sit at a nearby table and watching her from a distance, but he eventually just gave in and headed straight for her.

Her head snapped up as he took a seat opposite her, and her eyes widened and then immediately narrowed. She started to get up, but he stopped her with an outstretched hand reached beseechingly towards her.

"Don't," he said pleadingly. She resituated herself on the bench and avoided looking at him, instead glaring out the window.

"You followed me," she said at last, her voice deathly calm.

"You expected me to _not?_" he asked, keeping his voice just as level, although with a softer edge to it.

Her eyes turned to his now, piercing him with fury. "I didn't want you to," she snapped. "I wanted to leave. Why do you insist on continuously forcing yourself into my life?"

"Because, Bones, I wasn't lying back in your apartment. I love you, and I can't let you go. The others all do, too, in their own ways. They want you back almost as much as I do."

"This is the real world, Booth, people come and go. They need to accept that. So do you."

He sat silently for a moment, searching for the right words to say to her. "I know you've been hurt," he said finally. "I know you went through more than I might ever know about, but what _you_ need to understand is that we all will not give up on you, or let you go through this alone. Come back. Please. I need you. Ange needs you. Hodgins, Cam, the interns... even Sweets. You belong with us. You are _one_ of us. Don't ask us to forget that, because we can't. I know I never will."

The anger in her eyes was fading into uncertainty, and he went on quickly, determined to dive in through this window of opportunity to making her understand while he still had the chance to do so.

"What about all those cases we solved, all those cases we can _still_ solve? Don't you remember all those times we spent together, all those times I reassured you that I would never leave you or betray you, and that you were a part of a family with all of the squints and me? I said the hardest thing I've ever had to say when you forced me to help you get your father off murder charges. I was ready to take that bullet to save your life at that open-mic night. I took you ice skating using the excuse that I wasn't supposed to sleep and I needed company. I call you Bones because I can't think of you as anyone else... and you're trying to change that. Trying to change all of that. I don't know how else to prove to you how much you mean to me, but I can tell you that I would never have done any of those things with _anyone_ else. Only you." He gauged her expression, but he couldn't read through the torment of emotion and confusion going across her face. "I'd do anything for you," he finished, "And if that means stalking you across Boston until you let me back in your life... so be it. But I'm not going anywhere."

The waiting was excruciating... just staring at her and hoping that she would react in some way that showed hope for him. Praying that she would not scream at him, or punch him, or... anything else that might throw all his dreams to the ground.

The look on her face... the best he could get out of it was shock, and then there was some fear as well. Her mind was clearly still spinning, still processing all the words he'd just thrown at her.

And then she shook her head suddenly, mouth slightly open, and staring at him with a completely lost expression, she stood up and rapidly hurried out of the diner, glancing over her shoulder worriedly a few times before she was gone completely.

He had failed once more.

That didn't mean he was going to give up, though, not when some of what he'd said had obviously gotten through to her. Perhaps she needed some more time before she came to any sort of a decision. Perhaps she'd been overwhelmed by everything he'd said.

She'd still be at the same hotel tonight, of that he was sure. There was one thing he'd been able to read perfectly about her, and it was the absolute only thing that kept the flicker of hope shining for him.

He knew she wasn't going to run again, at least not physically. Now he just had to chase her through her own mind, to the right conclusion, and maybe, just maybe, he would get his Bones back.

* * *

**Next chapter will be back to Brennan's POV, going over her reaction to all of this. Plus, there's something she hasn't told any of them, something else she's been trying to forget...**

**Hope him confronting her so quickly wasn't too abrupt. I feel like they needed another talk, though, seeing as it's been way too long since the last one. **


	9. Chapter 9

She barely even had the strength to shut the door behind her as she entered the hotel room, and she didn't bother locking it. He was going to follow her anyways, so what exactly would the point be?

Did she want to talk to him again? No. Well, at least she didn't _think_ so... but now that he'd dumped everything upside down she wasn't really sure anymore. Yes, he'd said some of it before, and he'd tried to convince her then as well, but she hadn't let herself dig too deeply into it. Hadn't let herself really go into the belief that he was telling the truth... that he did in fact love her.

Now she couldn't really avoid analyzing it, not with him so nearby and clearly not giving up the chase.

What did she want, though? Her mind was spinning, and it was rather difficult to even explain to herself what it was she wanted for the rest of her life. She'd thought, with reasonable clarity, that she'd be more than happy if she was able to work in a professional atmosphere and continue contributing to her field without the distractions of close relationships or anyone who could tie her down. But now... well, he'd done something that she hadn't wanted him to by following her... or at least, that she thought she hadn't wanted him to.

It was all incredibly confusing.

She fell back on the bed and groaned, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Surely it meant something, her non-rational side of the brain argued with her, that Booth had followed. That he hadn't attempted to go on with his life without her, that he claimed he could _not_ go on with his life without her? Surely it meant she had been _right_, originally, to lay her complete trust in him, to let him in on her past and her fears and her dreams?

No, logic was quick to set in with its own set of explanations, it didn't mean anything. It meant he was exactly the person she originally analyzed him to be. The dedicated alpha-male protector who simply was concerned because he was programmed that way. Four years of time spent in close proximity... well it made sense he might have thought there was a bond of sorts. She had too, after all, but that was because she'd gotten carried away. She was on the right track, now, and he should be set on a better course as well, so that his life could go on with its more desirable course. The one without her in it.

Ice skating, she thought back in response, had that been a necessary part of their work bond? Had it been something that was an absolute important thing to occur? No. He _chose_ to ask her to do that with him, because he desired her company. Because he enjoyed being with her. And she enjoyed being with him. Or... she _had_, she reminded herself. She'd ended that with her decisions.

Then... why was he still following her? If she had ruined his trust in her by taking off on him, then why was he seeming so willing to take her back, forgive all that had gone awry?

Too late, she realized that she had sided with the non-rational side without even noticing it had happened. Was she really going to listen to him, then? Was she going to let him convince her all those things he said were true?

Maybe. She wasn't going to make up her mind on that one just yet.

But... images of her lab, the world she'd left behind only days ago, and the faces of her caring and wonderful coworkers, the people she'd come to know better than any else ever before... they all kept creeping back in on her. They had been doing that regularly over the past few days... but she'd fought them off and focused on other things. Pretended that she didn't feel isolated, didn't feel lost and out of her element without them around her constantly. Now she couldn't keep them out, though.

She didn't even realize she was crying until she subconsciously reached up a hand to brush the hair out of her face and felt the cold wetness against her skin. She sighed and closed her eyes, not even bothering to wipe away the tears. Her emotion was getting the best of her...

And she was letting it.

Nagging questions took over precedence, though, and she eventually sat up and rubbed at her face before leaning back against the pillow and letting them get their hold on her. They needed to be addressed, and the sooner the better.

For one, she was going to have to face what she'd done once she got back. Booth might be willing to forgive her, but would the others? And they would certainly want to know why she'd taken off in the first place. How could she even begin to explain the emotions and the fear that had driven her to escape from it all and never look back? They must all feel betrayed, Ange especially, that she had left no messages, had shown no sign to them that she even cared about them at all. That had been to make it a clean break, to help them rationalize and not dwindle on it. So they could move on quicker. But she shouldn't have expected them to understand that, or even appreciate it. Looking back, she was pretty sure they would be upset with her for it.

From what Booth had told her, though, she was still wanted. They missed her, he'd said. A dull ache in her chest made a few extra droplets break free from her eyelashes and make their way down to trace along her jaw line. _They missed her_. She knew that it shouldn't make her feel this pang of joy, knowing that they were feeling pain at her absence, but the idea that someone would think of her even when she wasn't there, and would care about where she was... it wasn't a feeling she'd experienced often, not since before her parents left.

And that brought her back to the other serious matter. Well... the two of them, to be exact. How was she going to tell him? How would he react to the parts of her past that she'd refused to tell _anyone_, even Ange? Because she knew that he'd have to know, if he really cared as much about her as he said he did. She couldn't just betray his trust in her by pretending nothing had happened, and there had been no reason for her to take off. And she wouldn't be able to just use the first half of the explanation, which was how she hadn't wanted to get any closer for fear of worse pain once she actually did lose him.

Well, she'd pretty much given up on that idea, hadn't she?

Before she could even think about the other problem of her discussion sometime in the future, a knock sounded, and she knew it was him.

_Not enough time!_ Was her initial reaction. She needed to process, needed to understand this further... but she could not turn him down, couldn't go lock her door and tell him to leave her alone. Not when that meant she might lose him after the decision she'd only so recently come to.

"Come in," she called weakly, suddenly relieved that she wouldn't have to get up to go open the door for him. And it gave her more time to compose herself. Hastily she swiped at her cheeks, trying to clear away any more of the tear trails that might still be visible.

She heard the door open, and looked up as he stepped into the small hotel room, his eyes landing on her before he'd even shut the door behind himself.

He hesitated, clearly torn between going closer or staying right where he was. "Hey Bones," he finally murmured, standing only a few feet from the door.

She bit her lip and looked away, not trusting herself to speak. Not when she wasn't anywhere near the end of her current emotional breakdown. Trust him to show up right in the middle, and see her at her worst, the way she had always been so careful to keep shielded from all eyes, even those that she trusted.

A moment later he was coming cautiously closer, and she heard an intake of breath suddenly from his direction, and she knew that he'd gotten near enough to realize she'd been crying, and still was.

She heard rather than saw him sit down close to the end of the bed, far enough away so he wasn't crowding her, and near enough that she could feel his presence.

"I'm sorry if I upset you earlier," he said carefully.

And that was all it took to just cut the last thread of the dignity to which she'd been clinging desperately to. Her shoulders hunched as a sob caught in the back of her throat. She felt more tears starting to fill her eyes, and she blinked rapidly, desperate to clear them away and furious at her own inability to compose herself.

He was sorry? _He _was sorry? What had he done wrong, besides be infinitely nice to her for almost the entire time they'd known each other? When had he ever purposefully hurt her the way she'd just done to him in her rapid escape only days ago?

A touch, warm against the skin on top of her hand made her breath catch and her head snapped in his direction to see that he was leaning towards her, his hand rested gently over hers, enveloping it comfortingly. He squeezed it gently.

And then she surprised herself. She didn't pull away from him, didn't even flinch slightly away. A moment later he slid closer to her, his warm body beside hers letting her draw comfort from its proximity.

He was watching her, his eyes concerned and cautious, and she knew that he wasn't sure what to do. She'd been sending him so many negative signals over the past few weeks that this whole display of emotion must be terrifying for him.

Without giving it much thought, just letting the instincts that had been desperately fighting against her ever since he'd gotten so close upon entering the room have full reign, she leaned closer to him, and at once she was enveloped in his strong arms, the small action from her having been the only sign that Booth had needed from her.

It was wrong, to take advantage of him like this when she didn't deserve it, but she wrapped her arms around him anyways, using his soothing murmurings in her ear to calm herself down and get control again. They needed to talk, and while she was releasing a few weeks of built up tension and other emotions it wasn't likely. She needed to compose herself, and then maybe she might stand a chance of explaining herself, of apologizing, of ever getting forgiveness.

"Shh, I've got you, it's okay..." he whispered to her, rubbing a hand warmly up and down her back.

At last she pulled away, trying not to be too abrupt about it, but clearly failing by the way Booth released her and then watched her fearfully, as though he was expecting her to yell, or send him away.

She had no intention of doing either.

Taking in a shaky breath, she attempted to speak, but he cut her off.

"You don't have to decide now, but... please come back with me to DC. Whenever you're ready, even if it's a month, a year even, if you think you need it. Just... promise me you'll come back."

She couldn't even begin to tell him how much it meant that it did not matter to him how long it took her, as long as she did come back. She simply nodded in response.

He sighed in relief, offering her a small smile that didn't quite go all the way to his eyes. "Ange will be so happy to hear that," he told her after a pause.

She bit her lip again and averted her eyes.

"We don't have to talk now," he added hesitantly. "You don't have to tell me or anyone what... happened. But I want you to know that I'm here for you if you do want to discuss it. It isn't important, though, if you'd rather not," he insisted quickly, "I understand."

But she'd already resolved to tell him, and so she was going to. Starting... that was the challenge. What part should she tell him first? He was going to be shocked either way... and any other reaction of his were what she was afraid of. What would he think of her, when he knew? Would he be upset that she hadn't told him earlier? She knew that he would not think less of her... but there was still a nagging part of her mind, which had never truly left after her foster years but rather retired to the far corners of her brain, not being allowed to voice its opinions often, where she was still afraid he might. It was irrational, but it was a fear that would not leave, and fears were never rational.

So she spoke up finally, beginning the only way that she could think of, by getting right to the main point, the long buried truth that no one she knew now could have ever possibly considered, the one who's explanation was going to take more out of her then she was certain she had, and dig up more memories of pain and suffering from a time long ago than she had ever wanted to revisit.

"I have a son."

* * *

**Okay, so I've just dropped a bombshell; please let me know what you thought. Also, should I go back and add more hints towards this in the Brennan POV chapters? This wasn't exactly in the original plans, as you can probably tell. **


	10. Chapter 10

_"I have a son."_

Silence. Two hearts thudding... one of them suddenly racing, the other's skipping a beat.

"You... what?" Booth gasped out, eyes wide.

She bit her lip and looked away, knowing she should have expected he wouldn't react well. The way he'd immediately tensed, mouth falling open... she suddenly wished she'd stayed silent, never spoken about this with him. She'd never wanted to tell _anyone_... and with Booth knowing... she knew that nothing was going to be the same again. Had she just ruined the best thing she had, after only just barely starting to re-salvage its remains from the first wreckage?

"Bones?" he murmured softly when she still didn't look up after a minute of apprehensive silence. "Hey, Bones," he said, softer still, and suddenly she felt a hand on her arm, gently squeezing it.

Her eyes flicked unwillingly to his, and she saw more concern than anything else in his gaze. She took a shaky breath, and then her teeth resumed their position pressing into her bottom lip. She couldn't seem to get herself to speak up, and she didn't like the lack of control she suddenly appeared to have over the conversation.

"It's okay," he assured her calmly, his eyes warm and comforting along with his voice. His hand had not moved from her arm, and now his other one reached out cautiously to her face. She didn't pull away as his fingers stroked her cheek, brushing away fresh tears she hadn't even noticed forming. "We don't have to talk about it now, okay? Just... please don't worry about anything, okay? I'm not mad at you, and I'm not going anywhere. Why don't you get some rest?"

She shook her head at that, the first movement she'd made in several minutes. It felt like she'd barely been breathing, too. "No," she managed to get the one word out, and then more tumbled after it, desperate to escape lest she should forget them or lose this bit of courage she'd taken so long to build up to and be unable to tell him at a later time. "I... you deserve to know."

Maybe she shouldn't tell him, her mind attempted to convince her, begging her to just keep it all locked up safe behind all those walls, the ones that not only isolated the details from the outside world, but from herself as well. She needed protecting from them as much as everyone else did... probably more so, truthfully. It could hurt him, her thoughts continued hurriedly. Would he really want to hear about what had happened to her? It might only make things worse, make him more sympathetic for her when in reality he should truly hate her for what she'd done to him. And she didn't want anymore pity... especially not from someone she'd seen as her equal for almost as long as she'd known him.

He was still watching her patiently... and she couldn't keep him like that. Couldn't break the connection she'd so foolishly just made with those few words. She had to speak again, even if the consequences were unpredictable. Even if things might not go as she wanted, even if they might end far worse than she feared.

"I don't even know his _name_." she whispered, her eyes once more boring holes into the carpet rather than face the terror of seeing the swirl of emotions in his eyes. What would he think of this? What would he say to her? Would he think her horrible for how little she knew, how little she'd even _attempted_ to find out?

He was silent, and she couldn't build up enough courage to both continue speaking _and_ look at him, so she settled for continuing to talk and memorize the pattern in the carpet.

"I was sixteen," she went on, feeling her throat tighten as the wave of emotion was carried through her along with flashes of memories she'd have rather stayed buried. They were slowly seeping out from the cracks, reassembling themselves into cohesive images. Painful images. "I'd been in so many homes that if I hadn't written them down I'd probably have forgotten the exact number without counting them up in my head. The moves... each time leaving for some reason or other, my fault, their fault, no one's fault... it didn't matter, they all stayed with me. I was with a single mother at the time... she had a son who was younger than me, and very shy." She shook her head, a sad smile playing across her lips with her barely recognizing its presence. "He was smart, so smart... we used to do homework together, and he showed me the computer he was programming. It was nice... having someone else who understood my position, in one way at least. Neither of us was exactly... well-liked in school. His classmates resented him for his intelligence, and mine for everything about me." She wasn't even sure why she was telling him this... the details, these small events, were insignificant. But somehow... she felt the need to tell him everything, to make him maybe understand a little more before she got to the rest of it. So that maybe he could feel differently about it, and see why she'd done what she had. She wouldn't be able to bear it if he didn't understand, if he was disgusted with what she'd done... how _little _she'd done. "One day it might be my clothes they chose to taunt me about, or another my hair or my intelligence... half the times I spent lunch hiding in a bathroom or alone at a table in the far corner, studying. My home life there was fine, really, there wasn't much that happened at all in the house... Janet could cook fairly well, and there were relatively few chores required of me. I mostly did my homework in my room."

Now she chanced a glance at him, at this break in the flow of the story. He was watching her, just watching. There was no judgment in his eyes, and his face was empty of emotion, as far as she could tell. He was waiting, he knew that this was not a story which would end well. She took in another shaky breath and forced herself onwards, her voice getting quieter as she went.

"Then Janet's boyfriend moved in with us. He had a quick temper... the kind that you got used to pretty fast in the system. He was the type to avoid... to make sure to say the right things around, and avoid getting him upset even slightly." She shook her head, "I'm horrible with understanding people, or their emotions... and I was so _scared_ back then... I tried," she whispered, "I tried to keep away from him. But..." she closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths, "I couldn't avoid him." Her voice broke, and she turned her head further away, making her hair fall down to create a screen between her face and him, so he wouldn't be able to see her as well.

The hand on her arm released its hold, and a sob caught in her throat. She waited for him to stand up, to leave. She bowed her head, knowing she never should have forced this on him, told him so much so quickly... he was going to go now, and stay away. She was broken, she knew that. And it made sense to stay away from something that was broken. He was doing the right thing.

She felt the mattress lift as he got up, and the sound of the floorboards creaking as he took a few steps. Her teeth drew blood from her lip from how deep she was biting to keep the sobs from escaping her. Her shoulders, however, gave her away. She knew they were shaking, even though she wasn't making a sound.

And then, suddenly, he was on her other side, sitting down close beside her, the warmth of his body pressed up against her. A strangled sob choked out through her lips as her eyes met his, wide with disbelief.

An arm went around her shoulder, and pulled her close to him while the other wrapped around her. The embrace shocked her, but she collapsed into it, the relief slamming into her like a battering ram. He was staying; he wasn't going to leave her. _When has Booth ever made a promise he didn't keep?_ A logical voice in her head chastised. She shouldn't have been so quick to assume he would, she knew, but... she wasn't used to the concept. This whole idea that someone might care so much that it didn't _matter_ what she told him or what she did... he would still want her with him.

She composed herself before she could go into another emotion attack, not wanting to start crying again as she had done before he'd first come in.

For some reason, she couldn't keep the words in, not now that they were spinning around torturously in her mind. They broke free, pulling themselves from her between tight breaths and half-suppressed sobs.

"I made him so angry one night... he was already furious before we ate, and then I was made to do the dishes while he went and watched some horrible sports event on tv... and I just remember being as careful as I could with them..." she met his eyes, and saw recognition there. He knew this part already. "I broke the dish," she whispered, "And he came in... he was mad, and I didn't know why; it wasn't even his house, or his dishes... but I guess he just wanted someone to be mad at, something to take the rage he had out of him... and so he picked me, because I was the easiest target. Janet... she was already so submissive I suppose he just didn't care about her anymore. But... I'd..." she stopped and stared at him for a long moment, and he nodded carefully. "I'd seen him looking at me, ever since he'd come into the house," she told him, her eyes darting away for a second unwillingly. They met back up with his, though, and she saw that they had darkened with anger. She flinched for a split second before she processed quite rapidly that the rage she saw there was not directed at her, but was rather aimed at that horrible monster. She went on once more, hesitantly, "There wasn't... anything I could really do. I didn't want to leave, because I was the only thing keeping him from hurting Jamie..." the second the name of the boy whispered out she lost her breath, struggling to just keep herself breathing properly in and out as she stopped speaking.

His hand rubbing up and down her back carefully brought her back slowly, and she glanced gratefully at him, her eyes swimming with tears.

"I don't know where Janet got the courage from... but after what he... what he did to me," she squeezed her eyes tight shut and bit her lip hard, tasting the blood that was there before she opened her lips again. "She spoke up against him, and she told him not to hurt me again... she was foolish, but it was very brave of her. He beat her, and then he dragged me outside with... with duct tape over my mouth... and he threw me into his trunk and shut it. Two days later Janet came out and got me, and she never spoke out against him again. I didn't dare to either... not that I had anyone to tell in the first place. Jamie... he wasn't beaten too badly... but I still felt terrible." She shook her head. "That was the worst home I was ever in," she murmured forlornly.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, and she turned to look at him again, this time realizing that his eyes were glazed with tears as well. He was crying. He was crying over something that had happened to _her_. She felt a surge of emotions threaten to overwhelm her, but she fought through them and settled for pressing herself tighter against him. "I know why you didn't want to tell any of us," he whispered softly in her ear as he held her to him. "And that's okay, Bones, none of us could _ever_ blame you for it... and as long as you come home with me, everything is going to be alright."

She shook her head against his shoulder, "Booth... I abandoned all of you, just like..."

"Hey, you did not abandon your son," he said firmly.

She hadn't even told him that part of the story, and yet here he was defending her from herself. "I found out about it a month afterwards, and I couldn't face an abortion," she murmured. There was a long silence, and then, "His birthday was last week," she whispered somberly.

"How old is he?" he asked gently.

"Sixteen," she answered without hesitation. It wasn't something she consciously did, keep track of his age... it was just something that was always there, no matter how hidden or blocked off from her everyday thoughts it was. And it always came back on that day, every year, with a reminder that it was another age he'd reached for which she was not there, for which she had been absent from his life the way her parents had become from hers.

He nodded slowly, his expressions calm and soothing. His hand continued to rub up and down her back. "Promise me you won't run away again," he said suddenly, surprising her. She looked at him with wide and questioning eyes, not fully comprehending the question that had so quickly been sprung on her. "If something else happens, or if something upsets you, promise me you won't take off to some foreign country," he clarified.

She bit her lip and looked away, knowing that she should agree to what he was saying, but feeling all the more terrified of doing so.

"Bones," he got her attention to turn back to his face, "I'm here. Do you understand? If there is _anything_ that's bothering you, or that you're worried about... you can tell me. I'll listen, and I'll help you. What I can't do is lose you. Do you promise me?"

She nodded, at first slowly, and then more rapidly. "I promise," she said, her voice taking on a tone of confidence that even she hadn't expected it to. He smiled warmly at her, and she felt a soft smile twist up the corners of her own lips as well.

"Thank you," he replied sincerely.

There was silence again, but this time neither of them broke it.

A few minutes later Booth glanced down and then smiled softly at the sleeping form in his arms. He carefully set her down on the bed and tucked her in, then sighed and went to the window, leaning against it as the rhythmic sound of the cars driving by continuously below reached his ears. And he just watched her sleep, letting the realization sink in... she was going home. _They _were going home. Together.

* * *

**Okay, some of you might have guessed this, but I need help with a name :) **

**I'd like to give a big shout out to all those wonderful people who review this story; you all make my day!!! I don't think I've ever gotten so much support on any other story :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**_*_Guilty look* Um... hi everyone! So, it's been what? Three weeks since I updated this? I could bore you with excuses, but I think 'writer's block' will suffice. I hope you enjoy this despite how long it took me to get it up. **

* * *

_Three Days Later_

"Are you absolutely sure about this?"

"One hundred percent," she answered confidently, but she knew that her eyes had flashed for just a split second. She also knew that he'd noticed. But he nodded anyways, squeezed her hand reassuringly, and then started the engine again and turned down onto the small side road.

She stared out the window intently, her eyes searching up the street until they locked on the large yellow house that she knew was the right address. Booth pulled over in front of a stretch of woods a short distance away, and they both remained silent.

"You're sure that-"

"Positive, Bones," he assured her. "If you don't want to do this, you know, we can..."

"No. I can handle this. I just... want to see. That's it."

He nodded gently, and her eyes immediately swung around to look back at the house again with an intensity burning in them.

She hadn't wanted to see the picture, even though Booth had been able to dig up information and had found school photos all the way up until current. She wanted to see him in person. To just... see. She _had_ to know.

"He looks like you," Booth said suddenly, softly, from beside her. Almost instantly her gaze swiveled back to him, and she bit her lip to keep the emotion that was crawling in the back of her throat from escaping. How did he always know exactly what was worrying her, and exactly what to say to make it all feel so different... so much better?

"He does?" she managed to whisper.

He nodded, smiling softly at her, his eyes shining with a gentle concern and a light of kind sympathy. "Yeah, he does. Your eyes and everything. Same color hair, too."

She just nodded, and resumed biting her lip. Eyes on the house once again, she managed to speak up once more, without meeting his gaze. "How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"...that I'd want to know that," she whispered.

There was a silence, and she waited in equal quietness as she watched the front door, feeling as though if she just never took her eyes away from its handle then somehow time might freeze right here. And she might never move again.

"I know you," he answered softly. "And I know how worried you were... that he might... not look like you."

That he might look like... _him_. Those were the words which they were both thinking. She just nodded, still not looking at him.

And then, as if on cue, the door slid open. She felt herself tense as a girl stepped out, with light brown hair, wearing a green soccer uniform. Behind her came a woman in her early forties, and then a man of about the same age, with already slightly graying hair. They were laughing, talking with one another, although she couldn't make out the words. She rolled down the window, and Booth did not object as she peered out of it, trying to make out anything that she could.

"Come _on_, Travis!" the girl shouted towards the door, which still hung partway open. The name sent a crashing force over her, and she felt her breath stop short as she continued to watch as though as a statue. A golden retriever bounded out, almost knocking the father down. The man scolded the animal, which paid no heed and continued to bounce around all of their heels.

And then a tall boy of about sixteen came out, a soccer ball under one arm and wearing khaki shorts and a pale blue t-shirt, stepped out and bounded down the stairs.

She almost stopped breathing entirely, and she was fairly certain the rhythm of her heart altered for a short moment before racing faster than it had been before. His facial structure was so similar to her own, although a bit longer and thinner, that it was unmistakable that they were related. His nose, his ears... every detail seemed to be an exact image of her own, only differing in size relative to his face. And then his hair... it was long and messy, hanging partly in his face, but the look suited him. When it caught the light, the ends of it glinted auburn.

"That's him," she whispered, although it was obvious.

"Yeah," Booth murmured softly next to her. "That's him, Bones."

She didn't even notice it, really, the fact that she was smiling, that tears were slowly sliding down her cheeks.

His laugh, the very sound of it and the way he tilted his head back as he tossed the soccer ball in the air and the dog butted it off his head... the way he dropped to the ground and rolled around, grinning and just _smiling_... it was all so clear that he was happy. This was the evidence faced to her, as clearly as she could remember her own memories from before her parents went missing. He had everything she hadn't at his current age. A family that loved him, a sister, a dog, a sizeable house and a spacious yard... and hand-eye coordination for sports, which she had lacked, he had apparently attained.

"We're going to be late," the girl complained, although she was laughing slightly as well.

"Come on, Travis," the man instructed, "Get Samson inside and... well, you might want to change, too. Make it quick, though, we're already running behind schedule because of you."

"Sorry, dad," he said quickly, springing to his feet. "Come on, Sam!" he called, and he and the dog bounded into the house.

All too soon he came running back across the yard... got into the backseat of their car. Then they turned up the road and rounded a corner. Gone from sight. She continued to stare at where they had disappeared, until she felt a warm hand on her shoulder, and she was startled out of her thoughtful and sorrowful silence.

"I'm sorry, Bones," he whispered.

"No... it's... it's okay, Booth. I said I wanted to see him, and now I have. And maybe... someday I'll meet him. If he wants to. But... like I said, I shouldn't be the one to interfere. Not when he's got everything he could possibly want right now. That doesn't... mean I wouldn't... wouldn't really still want to talk to him... but, I know that... that I can't."

He reached a hand up, brushed away the tears from her face. "You're the strongest person I know, Bones. And I know you're right, too. Someday you'll see him again, I promise."

She nodded, and the feeling of his hand, still cupping her cheek, relaxed her more so than anything else in the world could have at that moment.

"There's... a lot that we need to talk about," she murmured.

"Yeah," he agreed softly, but with a seriousness to his voice.

She glanced away, "I... never answered your question." Her eyes flickered back to his again, nervously. His eyebrows were raised, but he was clearly going to wait for her to continue rather than questioning her. "You asked," she struggled onwards forcefully, "If... I felt the same way as you did. Like you... told me before. And I... I said I didn't know. But... I do know." Her eyes were pleading with his, desperate for him to understand. "And... I want to... I want to try," she whispered.

"You have to be willing to more than try, Bones," he answered her, his eyes never once straying from hers. "You have to believe that this is going to work out. Because there is nothing that I will let happen which would break us. I will always love you, no matter what. I'll do anything to prove that to you. Do you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you," she whispered. "I always have." She hesitated again, though, not quite sure how to continue. So she chose not to... to let herself have more time. Come up with something that made sense. But she was not going to tell him no. Definitely not. But she was going to try to figure out exactly what this... meant. "Can I... can we discuss this later? When we... get back?"

"Take as long as you need, Bones. Do you... want to finish this up now... head back to DC tomorrow?"

She nodded, and he started the engine once more. They still had one more thing to do, before they went home.

They'd already been back, technically, she thought as they turned out of the street and began navigating through the small town. Booth had gotten them on a plane the following day after he'd found her in Boston, and when they'd arrived at the airport... well she'd never gotten quite a greeting like that before.

She'd spoken to Angela on the phone, after Booth had called her and filled her in what was going on. Her friend had been crying, which became evident to her after she first spoke into the cell and received a sob in response. That had hurt, cut deep, to hear full well just what she had done to someone who she meant so much to and who meant so much to her.

And yet she was so easily forgiven, as soon as she had sworn that she would never take off again, that it almost made it worse. It only added to the weight of her guilt that was already pulling her down.

Booth's support, too, had been enough to make her want to hide herself in shame. She didn't deserve all the attention he gave her. All the love he said that he felt for her.

How could she have ever thought that it might have been reasonable to just get up and abandon all she had known, leave them behind and expect them to move on? After all, she should know better than anyone what if felt like to be left with no answers, no explanations, no contact whatsoever. Just the sense that someone had not cared enough to bother.

She did care, though, and now... well, now she was going to have to prove it. And she would, no matter how much it took. She would not disappoint them all again; they deserved better than that. And they were more important to her than anything else ever had been.

"How far is the drive?" she asked softly, more to break the silence then out of genuine curiosity. She felt the... _need_, to say something to him, as though the silence in itself was a betrayal of him on her part, by keeping herself isolated in the protective silence.

Who needed silence, anyways, when she had Booth right here... more than willing to fill the emptiness with his personality and humor?

"A half hour or so," he answered with a shrug. "Although we really should stop for lunch before we get there. You're stomach was just grumbling, and don't try to pretend it wasn't because it was really quite loud."

She laughed softly, the action in itself a relief to her system. She felt herself relax more fully into the seat, a tension she hadn't even recognized beforehand now fading away and leaving her almost tired... but peaceful nonetheless. It was calming, even though the realization that she was able to be so quickly placated by simply his voice should have alarmed her as it once had. It no longer really mattered, though, did it? She could be happy now, if she let herself.

Oh, if only she could let herself...

"You okay over there, Bones?" he asked, breaking through her thoughts. She started guiltily, immediately noticing that she'd done what she'd been willing herself not to do... internalizing and leaving him in the dark.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about some things. Lunch does sound really good, though."

He nodded, eyes watching her with concern. She winced and looked away, which, frustratingly, only seemed to make him more worried about her.

"I'm fine," she muttered.

Silence.

Sigh.

"Booth... I'm sorry. I just... everything is confusing right now. And I want to process it, but at the same time I feel like I've already done too _much _thinking recently... and that I should just take your advice and go with me heart..."

"Hey, Bones, you do whatever it is you need to do... I can wait. As long as you are completely certain of your decision when you come to it. I need to know that if you... want to try for this, for _us_, you're going to stick with it. I need that from you, or else... I don't think I could do it." He shook his head, frowning out of the windshield as he continued driving. She noticed that they'd picked up speed while he'd been speaking... probably subconsciously on his part from his reaction to the stressing and serious conversation.

More silence... and more guilt from that.

She found herself wishing that she was alone, so that she would be able to just process and not have to worry about hurting him further by plunging the vehicle once more into an almost painful silence. Because he wanted to talk; she knew he did.

Could she do that, though? Convince herself to risk it all on a relationship, when relationships were simply not meant to last, when the very nature of such a thing might tear them apart and destroy the closeness they'd formed over the years? Would she be able to stay with it, when things got tough, when all she wanted to do was take it all back and return things to the easiness and relaxed understanding that had connected them before?

...Why wouldn't she, when she'd been so ready to give it all away... for _no _reason but to escape? What did she really have to lose? And what had she been told before... if you were willing to risk your life for someone, why not your happiness? Booth was worth that. It would all be worth that... if it worked out. And she had to have... faith... that it would.

In the blunt and efficient way that only she could, she said the three words to change the silence completely, and to alter the future beyond her control. And in saying them... she let go, and grasped at the tendrils of hope and trust in him, holding them as tightly as she could once the words had slipped out and clung to the air between them.

"I love you."

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**I feel like I didn't do Brennan's reactions to seeing her son for the first time justice... but I'll try to go back to her thoughts on the matter later. I don't plan on having them meet in this fic, though, so I'm sorry if you were hoping for that. **

**Next up is a reunion with Jamie. **


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Right. Uh, hello everyone... I would strongly suggest rereading the last chapter or, uh, all of it? Yes, I'm a horrible updater. Feel free to yell at me. I just hope there are some people still reading this, and if there are, I promise that I will continue writing it. **

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His eyes went wide, and he immediately yanked the steering wheel over. The vehicle bounced up and down slightly as half of it went off the road and rolled over bumpy gravel chunks before coming to a halt.

"What?" he choked out, hands still gripping the wheel as he stared at her intently, hardly daring to believe he'd just heard her right.

She was looking away, biting her lip slightly. He watched as she worried it somewhat, eyes roving along the outline of the window. He could see fear and regret etched in the crease between her eyebrows, but he wasn't going to let her keep that up for long.

"Bones?" he questioned, waiting cautiously for an answer. If it was the last thing he did, he would make sure she knew that her last statement had not been a mistake. Not by any means. So long as she meant it of course.

And... he was fairly certain she did.

She'd had plenty of time to think about it, after all, and he knew that she of all people did not take statements like that lightly. Not when so much was resting in the balance and might be toppled by a few words.

"I..." she stammered, her eyes meeting his for only a second before flitting away once more. She couldn't seem to sit still, her foot tapping slightly, making her knee bounce up and down with a twitchy rhythm to it.

"Do you mean it?" he whispered gently, one hand reaching out to grasp hers firmly within it, and the other reaching up to tilt her jaw towards him. Her eyes met his once more, and this time they remained firmly in place, as though now she _couldn't _break the contact.

Silence... neither of them moved.

And then once quick and decided nod from her. Her eyes were hard and serious. Not a trace of doubt within them. He grinned.

"Thanks, Bones," he whispered. "I promise we'll make this work. No matter what it takes; we'll get through it all. And I will _always_ be here for you. Forever."

Another nod from her. She didn't seem to be able to speak just yet, but he was okay with that. It must have taken a great deal for her to work up the courage to say it in the first place, and he was in no hurry to force her into doing anything else difficult today. But the grateful look in her eyes, the way they softened and just seemed to... look at him, as though she was seeing something completely different from what he saw in the mirror everyday... well that was a lot better than he was sure words could do anyways.

He nodded softly, squeezing her hand once, quickly, before he turned to look over his shoulder and pull the vehicle back out onto the road.

They made small talk, which was slightly awkward with short responses and long silences, but it passed the time until she murmured softly for him to take a left. He raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure where she was taking them, but trusting her completely about whatever it was she had in mind.

Wordlessly, she pointed to the right a moment later. He took the turn.

They were in an old plaza with a fluttering lighted sign that proclaimed the names of the stores. She gestured for him to park.

"Bones?" he asked cautiously as he stopped the vehicle in between two faded white lines. She was staring towards one of the two lit sections of the stretch of building, which appeared to be a restaurant.

"I haven't been here since before..." she broke off and shook her head. He got it, though, and realized he should have expected this sort of thing. After all, they were fairly close to where she'd lived with her parents, given that she'd had to stay in the same county while in foster care and her son had been adopted locally. They'd never even told her he was so close. Probably never even asked her if she wanted to see him after they took him away from her.

He wanted to punish them, everyone that had ever ignored her or not treated to her absolute best interests. Everyone that had ever not gone out of their way to make her happy and safe. Although, their level of punishment was a degree lower than what he'd be willing to personally administer to that monster who had hurt her. They _had_ hurt her, though, even if they hadn't given her the bruises, the scars, and all those lasting emotional repercussions that wouldn't fade away. The ones that he was now tending to because somebody else had let her go through all of that. If he could make it all go away, he'd do so in a heartbeat. But he couldn't, and so he'd settle for helping her in any way that he could.

"Do you want to go in?" he asked carefully.

For a moment he wasn't sure if she'd even heard him; her eyes stayed fixed on the building and she made no acknowledgement that he'd spoken. But just as he opened his mouth to ask again, make sure that she was okay, she spoke up.

"I... yeah, I would," she murmured.

He nodded, and then undid his seatbelt and opened the door. On the other side, she got out before he could go around and get her door for him. Typical Bones... he couldn't help but be slightly relieved by it. That simple action by her almost made him feel like he had her back again, like they were finally drifting back to the way they'd been before all of this had happened between them. And despite the fact that his feelings had been in the shadows then, and hers as well, he couldn't help but miss that easiness between them, and the feeling that at least he could look in her eyes and see calmness shining back at him, or satisfaction over a newly solved case. Recently all he'd been able to see in those blue depths was sadness or fear, and it had torn him apart inside.

Unquestioningly he followed her to a booth in the far back corner when they entered. He was unfamiliar with how the restaurant operated, but clearly she knew that it was a seat-yourself establishment, even after all these years had passed.

"Someone will be by to get us some drinks; we can go up and order whenever we're ready." She said, her voice calm and level. That concerned him, but he held back and simply watched her for a while longer. Her eyes drifted around, and he was fairly certain that she'd probably forgotten his presence. But he was fine with that, for the moment. Just so long as she eventually came back to him, and as long as whatever it was she was remembering now wasn't incredibly upsetting for her, he could handle the wait.

For a while, her gaze lingered on the painting behind his head, and a soft smile pulled at the corners of her lips. She was seeing it, yes, but in a different time. He could just tell it from the way her eyes sparkled with an almost sad light, as though recalling a time lost. Which she no doubt actually was doing.

The chandelier a short distance away seemed to entrance her as well, but he didn't ask any questions. He had confidence in how well he knew her to expect that she was actually intending on explaining fairly soon. He wasn't disappointed in that regard.

"We used to come here all the time. It was... a bit of a drive. Almost an hour. But my dad..." she laughed slightly, "He said the ride was the best family time we could get. Russ and I, oh we used to fight sometimes the entire way over or back, especially when we were younger. And dad would just higher the radio up and sing at the top of his lungs until we got so distracted by that and all ended up singing... and mom..." her eyes sparkled with a bit of moisture, and he knew the memory was bringing back the fact that she'd never see her mother again, "She always insisted on trying to entertain us with games and such. When we got here... it was like it was like a mini-vacation, because we came so rarely and we could order whatever we wanted. Russ always wanted the fries more than the bacon burger that he always got." She smiled wider, reminiscently, and went on, "I always got the fried fish. It came with this little toothpick stuck in the middle, with a plastic dolphin on top. I used to collect them..." she sighed, and her eyes finally met his, having been staring off slightly to the side of him the whole time she'd been speaking.

He wasn't exactly sure what to say to that. How could he respond to such a story? A part of him wanted to apologize, because he knew she was hurting over what she'd lost, but another part of him just wanted to tell her how happy he was that she'd loved this place so much and had such happy childhood memories attached to it.

He settled for reaching across the table and resting a hand on top of hers. With a gentle smile, he conveyed everything he could. And... from the way her eyes lit up softly at the touch, he knew he'd succeeded.

"Can I get you two anything to drink?" a young waitress asked cheerfully, flashing straight white teeth.

"Lemonade," Bones said instantly. Booth nodded in affirmation when she glanced at him, and she left to go get them both their drinks.

"Did you want to go order?" he suggested, still watching her closely.

"Yeah. I... yes, let's go get some food," she said, nodding more to herself than to him.

They ordered quickly; she got the same meal she'd just told him about while he settled for a double cheeseburger. It didn't take long for her to speak again.

"I haven't been completely honest with you," she murmured, and his eyebrows went up.

She stared at the table rather than continuing.

"Whatever it is, Bones, you can tell me. I won't be angry with you."

Hesitation flashed in her eyes briefly when she looked up at him, but then it seemed to resolve and she started, "When... when you woke up from your... coma..."

He waited patiently, reaching a hand across the table to rest gently on top of hers. She gave him a grateful look, and went onwards.

"I never fully explained what happened... I guess because I didn't want to admit it, not when I'd just gotten you back after I thought..." she trailed off, but then started strong once more, "Booth, I was working on a story... sort of like a new book, while I waited in your room at the hospital. And... I read parts of it out loud." He frowned, not really grasping where she was going with this. "I gave you the idea, subconsciously, and you latched on to it."

He stared at her for a long moment. "You mean... you wrote about... _us_, with the nightclub, and the murder, and... all of that?"

"Not all of it," she said softly, "But... mostly, yes."

Wait, he thought, did that mean... "Bones, you wrote about us married?" he clarified, eyebrows still up near his hairline. She bit her lip and looked away, answering the question for him. "Hey, hey, shh..." he soothed as he saw her eyes sparkle slightly with moisture, "It's okay, Bones. I'm just... I didn't expect that."

"I should have told you sooner," she whispered, eyes shining with both guilt and tears.

"You were afraid," he said, keeping his tone at the same gentle and soothing level. "I understand, Bones. But... you're admitting it now. And that means a lot."

"I don't..." she broke off suddenly, frowning to herself, "Booth, I don't want to give you the idea that the... _dream_.... that it's something that I'd..." she sighed again, clearly frustrated at her inability to explain what she was thinking.

"I don't assume that you suddenly love the concept of marriage," he said calmly, his thumb gently stroking over the top of her hand.

She visibly relaxed, her expression calming down considerably. "Thanks, Booth."

He nodded and smiled reassuringly, his hand staying where it was on top of hers. She made no move to pull back, and he felt himself relax in that position, relieved that they were getting somewhere, that she was opening up to him, that she'd stopped pulling away and into herself... that she was here with him, though, was mostly the part he kept coming back to.

He contemplated telling her that he wouldn't mind if she did come around to the idea of marrying him, but he decided against it. There would be plenty of time for that later, he'd make sure of it. For now, though, they had to focus on simply getting through the rest of today, and getting back to where they belonged back in DC.

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**I'm going to say the same thing that I said when I updated my other story after a long hiatus from it; I don't deserve the reviews, but I would love them mostly because they provide great motivation to work on this story and update it more frequently. So... make of that what you will, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I plan to update again before next week, but if I don't... Happy Holidays to everyone!!  
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	13. Chapter 13

**Yeah, slow update. Writer's block is evil. Hope you all enjoy this chapter. **

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"You're sure, Bones?" he asked, his gentle eyes staring back at her. It felt like it was all he knew how to say to her anymore. She knew he cared, and she was more grateful for that than he'd probably ever understand... but she was going to have to show him that she was the same woman she had been before all of this had come out. She was still strong, she could still take care of herself. And she'd made up her mind to do this, so she would be doing it.

There was no way she was going to turn around now, not while they walked up the path to the front door of the cozy little blue house. She nodded, and then kept her mind focused as best as she could. The street wasn't busy, but a car passed as they reached the front steps, and the sound of a lawn mower starting somewhere down the end of the row of houses drifted to her ears. Taking a deep breath, she raised a shaking hand and hit the doorbell.

Booth's eyes were still on her, but she didn't turn to meet them this time. She didn't want to see the concern that was sure to be there... right now what she needed was confidence. Otherwise she'd never get through this.

Footsteps sounded heavily on what was most likely hardwood flooring inside, and she braced herself as she heard them stop, and then the door opened hesitantly.

"Can I... help you?" a small woman asked, looking back and forth between them. She was wearing business-like high heels, which Brennan assumed was why her footsteps had been so audible, as well as an outfit that clearly suggested she'd either just gotten home from an office job, or would be leaving shortly to get there.

Booth cleared his throat, nudging her slightly, and she realized that she'd been simply staring. Blushing slightly, she spoke up, "Yes, I was wondering if I might... speak with James Hart?"

"Jamie is working right now..." she looked back and forth between them again, a frown forming deeply between her eyes. "If you don't mind me asking, who exactly _are_ you?"

"I'm Temperance Brennan," she stated quickly, "I'm... an old acquaintance of Jamie's."

The woman's frown darkened. "If this is about that high school reunion, James sent in his response and said he wouldn't be going. There's no need to-"

"I was his foster sister," she said abruptly, cutting the woman off. Her mouth opened and closed for a moment, and then she finally managed to stammer before getting out a somewhat coherent sentence.

"Jamie... he mentioned... once or twice..." she slowly shook her head, and then stepped aside a bit too quickly, almost losing her balance as she did so. "Please... come in. I'll... tell him you're here. I can offer you some coffee; I just made my evening pot..."

Brennan stepped inside cautiously at the invitation, looking around briefly to take in her surroundings but not keeping her focus anywhere long, returning it instead to the woman who was most likely Jamie's wife. "I apologize for the intrusion," she said carefully, not certain if she was doing this correctly or not. Booth hadn't corrected her once in her interaction with the woman so far, and she was beginning to get concerned that maybe she was doing horrible and he just didn't know how to intercede before it went too far.

"I'm sure Jamie will be glad to see you," the woman answered easily. She was about to turn towards a staircase, but then stuck her hand out. "I'm Clarissa Hart," she said, offering a somewhat hesitant smile. Brennan shook her hand firmly, returning the smile. As the woman's gaze flicked to Booth, she felt that it would be a good idea to introduce him now... if she was this woman, she wouldn't have even let them in the house without knowing who they both were, after all.

"This is my work partner, Seeley Booth. We were in the area on other business, and I asked him to accompany me to visit an old friend."

The woman seemed to be placated by this, and shook his hand as well before she started up the stairs. "I won't be long," she said just before she vanished from view.

Booth was already sitting himself down on the couch that Clarissa had led them over to, but Brennan was less sure of herself as she stared around at the clean environment. The house was far more spacious inside than it looked from out on the street, and she liked it. The whole building had a feeling of warmth about it, without being too tightly quartered.

"Take a seat, Bones," Booth suggested calmly. She glanced down at him, then carefully lowered herself down beside him. His arm wrapped easily around her, and he smiled. "You're doing great," he whispered in her ear, and she felt some of her worries evaporate for the moment.

She nodded again, not really sure what to say, and then focused her eyes on the stairs as she waited for any sound from overhead indicating that the woman would be returning in a moment with Jamie.

Suddenly, she found herself wondering if he would even want to remember her. The short time they'd known each other must be the worst memories he had of his childhood. And she didn't even know what had happened after she was removed from the house. Had he been able to go on with his life, once he and his mother were on their own again? She knew that nothing could have ever been the same, not after all they'd went through.

But she didn't get long to ponder, because it was only a minute later that footfalls sounded at the top of the stairs once more, and this time a man descended into view.

His sandy brown hair had darkened over the years, and he'd grown a mustache, but other than that and his growth from a teenager into an adult, she could still see the boy she'd known. Brown eyes, just a shade lighter than Booth's, stared back at her in disbelief as he arrived on the ground floor.

She couldn't remember standing up, but she was on her feet again as he walked over, and Booth was right beside her.

He seemed to take a breath as he stopped a few short feet away, and then her name came out like a whisper. "Temperance?"

A sad smile tugged up the corner of her lips, and she nodded with just one quick bob of her head, already feeling the moisture starting to form in her eyes. He was tall, and handsome... and he had a kind of gentle look to him that seemed to make everything just that much better. It was like seeing Russ again, after all those years. He was grown up, he had a life and a family... a surge of pride shot through her. She wasn't his mother; far from it. But she'd been a part of his life growing up in a difficult situation. She'd helped him do his homework, kept him out of trouble, watched over him... and here he was, a good man, with a wife, and a house...

She wasn't sure at which point she'd stepped forward, or even if he'd been the one to step towards her, but she was enveloped in warm arms all of a sudden, and she hugged back, the tears in her eyes slowly beginning to slide down her cheeks. They were more tears of happiness, of disbelief at finally seeing him again after so long, than they were tears of pain like those that she'd been letting out so often recently.

They almost felt good.

She allowed herself a slight laugh as she stepped back from him, swiping quickly at her cheeks as she smiled at him. He was only a bit taller than she was, she realized, now that they were standing directly in front of each other.

"It's been a long time," he said, his voice somewhat rough, but with a trace of gentle warmth in it.

"It has," she agreed through another slightly choked laugh. As if remembering Booth's presence, she started to explain, the words rushing out, "Jamie, I didn't mean to interrupt anything; I was here with my work partner," she gestured at him quickly, "And he came with me to see you... this is Seeley Booth."

Both men shook hands, and she saw some sort of exchange happen in their expressions, but for the life of her couldn't figure out what it meant.

"Nice to meet you," Booth said with a nod.

"Same. Do either of you want anything? My wife said something about coffee, and I'm pretty sure we've got some cake or pie or something sitting in the kitchen as well."

"He likes pie," Brennan commented, nudging her partner lightly and smiling.

"And you don't," Jamie said, his eyes lighting with understanding. She bit her lip and nodded in ascent to the statement.

"I don't like my fruit cooked," she said quietly, but she already knew it was far too late to make Booth believe that.

"Anything you would like?" Jamie asked carefully.

"Coffee?"

"Sure, I'll be right back. Make yourselves at home; don't be afraid of the furniture. It might look nice, but I assure you it didn't cost much."

He chuckled lightly as he disappeared through an opening that presumably led to the kitchen, and she slid down onto a cushion first this time. Booth sat gingerly next to her, and after a moment of silence he reached over and took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. She bit her lip a bit harder, and then sighed.

"We had pie that night," she whispered, rushing the words out. "I never liked it, but he made me eat it anyways."

There was silence for a long moment, and then Booth pulled her into an awkward one-armed hug and kissed the side of her head softly. "I'm sorry, Bones."

She just shook her head wordlessly, and then finally murmured, "Not your fault. And..." she finally met his eyes, "I really _don't _like the taste. I never did. I've tried, though, over the years. Don't feel bad about trying to get me to like it. I... sometimes I really wish I did enjoy it as much as you do."

He only got the chance to nod understandingly before Jamie returned to the room, toting a dish and three cups. She hastily took most of them from him before he lost any of the cups, and set them down on coasters, pushing one towards Booth.

Suddenly Booth didn't seem as interested in the pie, and to be honest she couldn't blame him. But a gnawing sense of guilt cut into her at the thought of ruining something he'd loved because of what she'd told him.

"Eat," she said softly, nudging his knee with her own and nodding towards the dish. He stared at her for a moment, reading her face, she knew, and then he took the fork and dug into the pastry.

She turned her attention back to Jamie.

"I see things turned out nice for you. What are you doing for work?"

"Well, I was focused in software design for a while, but I've started leaning more towards literature lately. I actually wrote a.... um, science-fiction novel." He seemed somewhat self-conscious about the fact, and she was quick to console him.

"A good career choice, given the wide interest that covers the topic. Have you found an agent or a publisher yet?"

"Not yet," he answered, but this time a confidence worked its way into his tone. "I'm working on it, though. I've sent it out to several agents, and I've got one that's seriously considering right now."

"That's excellent," she said with an impressed nod.

"Bones here is an author, too. Sure you two aren't related?" Booth said, joining the conversation.

"You write?" Jamie asked instantly, eyes widened slightly with interest.

"Just... on the side," she said with a shrug.

Jamie seemed to consider a moment, and it looked like he was going to ask another question of the first when he suddenly frowned and reconsidered, choosing a different line of inquiry altogether. "Bones?"

She chuckled, and let Booth take the lead on that explanation.

"Yeah; forensic anthropologist and all that... bones sort of come with the territory. I think it fits, and she doesn't kick my ass anymore, or even threaten to, when I call her it."

"Wow," Jamie said, eyes back on her again. Suddenly she was the self-conscious one. "Forensic anthropologist, seriously? So... what, you've got a doctorate and all that?"

"Several," she answered calmly.

"I remember you wanted to be a science teacher... that ever work out?"

"I have a large group of interns studying under me at the Jeffersonian Institution in DC," she said, going for the easiest explanation she could offer. "But mostly I work with the FBI on murder cases."

She realized a bit too late that she might be overwhelming the younger man. He opened his mouth, and then closed it again, before his eyes flicked over to Booth and stayed there.

"So, you must be FBI, then?"

"Special Agent Seeley Booth, at your service," he responded with a grin. "Great pie, by the way."

"Yeah, thanks... my wife made it..." his eyes went back to her again, "You really... you really went places, Tempe," he said in awe. "I'm... you have no idea how glad I am of that."

"You seem to be doing fairly well, too," she said quickly, gesturing to the room they were in, but trying to reference the whole house. She was fairly certain he got it. "I mean, you have a good job, a wife, a house..."

"A mortgage," Jamie added, but there was a teasing light in his eyes. He shook his head, though, to dispel that last one, "You're right, you know. I've got it pretty good here... far better than I could have hoped for. You, though... I worried, a lot, about whether or not you were okay. For years after we lost touch, actually. It's just... it's really great to see you again."

His eyes went from her to Booth only a moment after he fell silent, though, and she was only just starting to figure out that he had an unspoken question when Booth spoke up to answer it.

"She's already told me about everything," he said simply. Jamie nodded, his lips tight and his eyes suddenly hard.

"Looking back, I would have done things so differently," he said seriously. "I was only thirteen at the time, but you..." he stared at her and shook his head, "You were only sixteen. And I wanted to do something, anything... I never even got the chance to tell you how sorry I was. They just... took you away." By the time he was finished, his voice was choked, and he was looking away. Booth had politely averted his eyes, but she didn't. Instead, she reached across the coffee table and rested a hand on his arm.

"It wasn't your fault," she whispered. "It wasn't anyone's but His. And having you there, having someone to talk to... if I hadn't had that I probably wouldn't be here right now."

Booth glanced at her significantly, but she ignored it, for now.

At only a little suggestion from her, they moved on to more pleasant subjects, and found out that Jamie and Booth were into sports. They talked about that for quite some time, verging off to bring her into the conversation as they talked more about what they did for work as well, until finally Clarissa came down the stairs and informed them that they were welcome to stay for dinner. Booth left the option open to her, but she finally declined, saying that they needed to catch a flight back to DC.

She got his phone number and email address, and promised to stay in touch.

Farewells still ringing in her ears, she climbed silently into the passenger seat of their vehicle and let Booth drive them away.

She was tired, and for once she wasn't even thinking about how nice it would be to get back to work. She was merely thinking of how nice it would be to go home and sleep in her own bed.

Barely five minutes later, she drifted off to sleep with her head leaned against the cool glass, her dreams a swirl of past and present... the future a blanket of darkness tinged with bright and hopeful stars that a Booth-like figure kept calling her towards.

And, in her dream... she didn't fight the suggestion.

* * *

**Your thoughts = My happiness = More updates. :)**

**I'm finally getting back to writing again. I hope it stays this way. **


	14. Epilogue

**Well, here we are. It's been... a long time since I last updated. Some of you might want to... reread? Does anyone even remember what this story is about anymore? (I had to reread the whole thing, multiple times, before I was sure I knew enough to continue it)**

**I can't apologize enough for how long this has taken me. Writer's block mixed with procrastination have led to a good five months or so of nothing as far as this story goes. Hey, I did attempt. A few times, I made the effort to start this chapter, but it never really... clicked. I just couldn't get in the mood to finish it outright. **

**And yes, this is finished. This is the epilogue. All I can hope from this is that it will satisfy all of you, and maybe even make up for my terrible updating. **

**So please, read on. And, if you can't forgive me for leaving you all for such a long time, at least leave me a review to complain about the horrible service. ;)**

**Really, this has been a great journey, and I'm rather proud of this story. Thanks to each and every one of you who has taken the time to review, some of you right from the start, and some of you later on. Each one has meant so much to me, and especially those of you who noticed my lack of updating and made the effort to wake me up about this story and get me back on track. Obviously, it worked!**

**Anyways, I'm rambling. Please, read!  
**

* * *

Booth was making pizza. The smell wafted from the kitchen to where she sat calmly in the main room, seated in her favorite chair next to the window that looked out onto the back yard. Evening was falling. The sunset was visible, light trickling like water droplets through little gaps in the trees. She watched as it faded, her eyes straying absently back to the page in front of her as she picked up where she left off.

She was reviewing her manuscript, and the chapter she had arrived at appeared to be a bit choppy and thrown together. The evidence didn't mesh well with the character interaction, and the random sex scene seemed just a bit... desperate.

He'd been away the week that she had written it, she remembered. A father-son bonding trip to the mountains with Parker to go camping. She had been invited, but she had politely turned him down. It had been something special between the two of them, a tradition she couldn't impose on.

All the same, it had been rather unpleasant to spend so much time in the silence of their home, making food for herself and resisting the urge to order Thai. It would serve as a reminder of him, and if there was something she had learned over the past few years, it was that when they were apart she needed to adjust and come to terms with it. Not mourn as though things would never be the same. She knew he would be back soon enough... and when he had come in, tired and alone—Parker had been dropped back at Rebecca's, and had apparently fallen asleep on the ride home anyways—the Thai food had been waiting. A welcome-back-together gift to the both of them.

Pizza, however, was a nice change.

Booth could be a chef when he wanted to be, she had discovered. He liked to experiment, and often she joined in, tossing in extra ingredients, and laughing as he flicked his flour-covered hands at her and initiated a full-out food-war.

The kitchen often looked like a bomb had gone off, but the clean up turned out to be just as enjoyable as the rest of the experience. And as it always was, they made it a joint effort every time. She washed the pans while he swept the counters and the floors clean of the remnants, and together they reorganized the cabinets and got all the ingredients back where they belonged. Booth would probably be more willing to put them wherever, but she wasn't going to budge on the matter. Order was one of the few things she demanded from him outright. For the most part, he willingly agreed.

She did always end up picking his ties and socks up off the floor, but it was sort of an endearing thing, and she always smiled at the patterns on them as she neatly folded them later, when they were fresh and crisply washed, dried, and even ironed.

The lab was still her sanctuary, but not the only one anymore.

Her apartment was a world far away, one that they had gotten on a rocket ship and flown off of ages ago. Money was not an issue. They had bought a cozy little home only another ten minutes from their workplaces, and had worked together to paint it and decorate it to their liking.

_"We are _not_ putting skulls in the kitchen, Bones. Nuh uh."_

_ "They're decorative, and they were gifts, Booth. Given specially to me by the-"_

_ "Right, right. I know. You've told me a thousand times. Just... flowers, maybe? Please?"_

A brilliant Georgia O'Keeffe painting of a reddish-orange poppy hung on the wall that lacked a window, just above their glass table with the high barstools, where they retired for home-cooked meals when they didn't have the press of paperwork weighing down on them. Two smaller paintings of daffodils, both by Angela, hung neatly on either side, emphasizing the poppy but at the same time drawing their own attention in their brilliant yellow splendor. She loved them dearly, and each time she saw the paintings she was reminded of a memory. They were often out of order, and each time different, but she remembered something, and she smiled sadly to herself and hurried on with whatever it is she was in the middle of. If she didn't, she might end up standing there for hours, and she just couldn't handle that.

Angela had moved away approximately three months prior. It was only temporary, she knew, but at the same time she felt the sorrow of loss far too often in her everyday life. The lab was not quite the same.

Hodgins was still there, but he seemed to be... smaller. The conspiracy theories that seemed to have melted away after Zach's arrest had come back in a flurry over the past year, but they had disappeared once more, and he seemed at a loss. Finally.

She had absolute faith that the two of them were on the path to realizing what they were missing. The moment Angela got back from her extended vacation, they would be right back to where they had been all that time ago. And if not, then she was going to get to be the interfering friend that took charge and made things _happen_.

It was two years, practically to the day, since she had fled from DC, believing that she could move on without her family and friends, and start anew. Things had changed far more than she ever could have believed. At points it was... surreal. Some mornings she woke up, felt a warm arm around her, and just stiffened in shock until she gradually realized where she was, and who she was with.

The routine was one she had easily adjusted to, though. Some mornings they made breakfast themselves, others they rushed off before they had the chance, but almost always he gave her a ride to the lab, and would later come back to pick her up and bring her somewhere for lunch. The Diner was a common location for their midday escape from responsibility and murder, but they always ended up talking about it anyways. Sometimes he dragged her off to someplace fancy, though, and he always found ways to entertain her so they could talk for hours about any topic they wished, murders and horror completely washed from their minds.

A blissful escape that only he could provide.

"You at a good stopping point?" Booth called from the kitchen. She heard the sound of the oven being opened, and smiled softly to herself. The small pleasures of living with someone else... the warm and delicious scent of melted cheese, perfectly crisped crust, and bubbling toppings hit her senses.

"I'll just bookmark where I left off," she called back. "Is it all set? I'm starving."

"Yup, all ready."

Eyes bright, she set aside the manuscript and walked around the corner, almost immediately being swept into his arms as he pulled her into a dance, laughing. His lips were just roving down her neck when they both froze at the sudden sound of the doorbell.

She gave an irritable groan, and he made a similar sound from the back of his throat, pulling away regretfully. "Get settled, Bones, and I'll be right back to cut it up... you didn't ask your dad over, did you?"

"No. And I can cut the pizza, Booth. I'm perfectly capable with knives."

He chuckled. "Yeah, I know. It concerns me sometimes."

She watched his back as he disappeared back out into the main room, and then busied herself dividing the pizza into eight perfectly divided sections, and selecting one covered in vegetables and delectable pineapple for herself, setting a rather meaty looking one on Booth's plate.

Two male voices reached her ears—one was Booth's, and the other one she didn't recognize, but it was definitely young. Something about it seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place it.

"Bones!" he called, and she frowned in interest and made her way around to see exactly who had come to their door. Had Angela sent something, and her signature was needed to accept it?

She froze as soon as she saw the young man standing just inside the doorway, though. His eyes were locked on hers. An exact shade of blue. Dark auburn hair hung across his face, short but still side swept in a way that she was certain was considered stylish.

He watched her in silence for a moment, clearly apprehensive, and when she stayed stiffly where she was, her mind racing through a million things at once, he glanced nervously towards Booth. "Sorry," he said swiftly. He turned back to her, "I'm sorry. I'll just... I shouldn't have even..."

"No!" she practically shouted as he turned to make an escape. He stopped short, turning back with eyes widened in surprise. Hers were filling rapidly with tears, something they hadn't done in a very long time.

She had stepped forward on reflex, but was now stuck where she had landed, hesitating. She had no idea how to handle this situation. Not a clue in the world. All she knew was that she couldn't let him leave. She had to make him... understand.

Booth was reading her expression; she could feel his eyes on her the whole time. Suddenly he put a hand on the young man's shoulder and gave him a push slightly in her direction. "Go on, kid, give your mom a hug," he said, smiling reassuringly.

Relieved by Booth's small intervention, she closed the distance and easily wrapped her arms around her son as he opened his to embrace her just as warmly.

"Travis," she murmured softly, her eyes closed and her grip not loosening in the slightest. "I... you're really _here_. I didn't... I wasn't sure if I'd ever actually get to meet you."

Finally she pulled back, still holding him by the shoulders, feeling like he might vanish in a second, terrified that he might hate her no matter what she told him to explain.

"You know my name?" he asked hesitantly, and she immediately nodded, fighting back a slight sob at the implication.

"Of course," she whispered. "Of course I do... I- Travis, I never wanted... I didn't..." She trailed off there, just shaking her head and staring at him in wonder. He was really and truly here. "You found me," she said suddenly in an awed whisper. "You... you wanted to... find me."

He offered a lopsided smile, but looked nervous as he shrugged and muttered, "I wanted to... know. Y'know... if you... if you even knew about me. I mean, obviously you would, uh... know, but I just wanted to... to see..."

"I understand," she said with a hurried nod. "I... come and... and sit down. We were just about to eat... I mean, you probably... you probably like pizza, right?" she was stumbling for words, and it wasn't a sensation she was used to. Over the past few years, everything had come easily, between her usual efficiency at work and her relationship and understanding with Booth. She hadn't felt this out of her element in ages.

"Yeah. Yeah, I like pizza. I wouldn't want to, like... intrude or something, though..." he glanced at Booth, and she remembered his presence in the room with them in a sudden flash.

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry... This is... this is my sort of husband, Seeley Booth." At the raised eyebrow she got in return, she offered a weak smile, and made a brief attempt to explain. "We're together, and we aren't exactly... dating so much as having decided to spend our lives together, but we don't plan to get married."

He just nodded, clearly trying not to look confused, and she hurried onwards.

"He helped me find you, a few years ago. I mean... I already followed your birthdays... but I didn't want to... to interfere. I had to know you were... happy, though. And... I saw that you were."

"But you didn't speak to me," he said. It wasn't a question so much as a statement to fill the blanks in. She looked away and nodded as they took their seats at the table. Booth grabbed an extra plate for him and gestured to the pizza, letting him grab his own meat covered slice. He didn't eat it, though, keeping his eyes locked on her and completely ignoring the food. She didn't blame him, and she didn't touch her own food either.

"I'm sorry," she whispered softly.

For the first time, Booth shifted uncomfortably, as if he wanted to remove himself from the private conversation. She offered him one quick look, and emotion passed between their gazes before he nodded, offered a smile, and took his plate into the other room. She wouldn't have minded him there... but this was a conversation for mother and son, and clearly he didn't feel like he belonged in the middle of such an... intimate talk. She would tell him about it later, though, she knew, and he would listen with rapt attention to every word... because that was what Booth did.

"I didn't give you up," she said the moment they were alone, and Travis's eyes widened in surprise. "I didn't make the choice. I didn't have any say at all... in any of it, actually," she added sadly. She wasn't sure whether or not she should even tell him this... and for a moment she wished Booth was still sitting next to her to relegate the conversation and make sure she kept things on safe territory. But it wasn't like she could go back now.

"You were in foster care," he said rather bluntly.

She just nodded, her eyes betraying the deep sorrow that she felt over those few simple words.

"My... my father..?"

She shook her head, eyes darkening. "I'm sorry," she whispered again, but this time the words were lined with a bit more than just sadness. They were lined with pain and deep regret for something she couldn't have changed.

He fell back in the seat, his hands resting on the edge of the table still, and he stared up at the ceiling, shaking his head, lost in thought.

"He forced you?" he finally said, and he didn't look at her as he said it. She could tell it took a great deal of effort to get those three words out.

"Yes," she managed to say through the lump that had risen in her throat.

His eyes hardened, and his fists clenched. She saw a nerve in his neck pulse, and he shook his head as he glared at the middle of the table. He might have been much younger than Booth, but he reminded her a great deal of him. At once, her brain made the helpless wish that he belonged to the both of them, that things were simple. It just wasn't _fair_. To her, to Travis... to anyone.

"Who was he?" the question, and the clear anger behind it, caught her off-guard. Watching his reaction, she had begun to believe that maybe he might be able to hate her for this truth... but apparently she had been wrong. The way that Booth always got dark and silent, seemed so threatening, was just like this. Fury directed at someone _else_, who had hurt _her_.

"My foster father," she said, fighting to keep her voice strong. She wasn't going to burst into tears in front of her only child on their first encounter. She needed him to see who she was, and she _needed_, more than anything, for him to accept that. She needed him to love her, because she loved him. "It isn't important, Travis. Who he was, it's not important. He's in jail, for a list of crimes I don't even want to think about. I checked... believe me, I checked. What _is_ important is who _you_ are. Who _I_ am. Because we make our own choices now. And..." she paused, trying to read his expressionless face, "...And I would like very much to be a part of your life."

The anger had fizzled out of his expression by now, and she saw surprise color his face. "I... you would?"

She nodded, "Yes, I would. You... Travis, you're my son. All these years... I have thought of you, and I have... I have missed you, even though I didn't know you. And all I want now is to... to get to _know_ you."

"You want me?"

The age old fear of hers. The terror of being cast out, the constant nagging feeling in the back of her mind that it was all fake and that it would all disappear. The worry, all the time, that no one cared. That no one wanted her for who she was, but for other things about her. Her looks, her intelligence... it was never about who she was on the inside. Not until she met Booth.

Still, it had plagued her through her whole life. Her parents had vanished, and the fact that they had been alive and well two years after they had disappeared, and had not come for her, had done nothing to help her fears that no one would ever want her. Her brother, leaving before her own eyes. Her father _and_ brother, together, driving away as she hunched over chained to a bench. Sully, sailing away. Even Booth, not calling her to tell her that he was alive... Sweets and him, _everyone_, agreeing that she had the _mental capacity_ to process his death, because apparently she didn't care when she lost people she loved.

Her whole life had consisted of people leaving her... people not caring about her at all. Foster parents tossing her out because she didn't meet their expectations, or they wanted their own children, or they just didn't like her at all. What must Travis have thought of her, when he found out that he was adopted? Had he believed she had abandoned him, the way her parents had abandoned her? Had he thought she didn't want him? Had he thought those same thoughts she had spent countless nights chasing around her head, wondering what she had done _wrong_, to make this happen?

"Of course I want you," she whispered through the sudden onslaught of tears. And suddenly it didn't matter that she was breaking down in front of her son. His eyes were glazed over as well, but more than that, he was looking at her with an expression filled with something that could only be described as desire for exactly what she wanted just as much... love.

He was her son. She could give him what had been taken from her... and in the process, maybe she might be able to close that small hole in her own heart, and take away all the rest of the fears. Because he was the missing puzzle piece, the one thing that her life had been lacking, and now...

They stood at once, both of them without hesitation, and she pulled him fiercely back into her arms.

Now she was complete.

_**Fin.**_


End file.
